


Contrition

by Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction



Category: The Covenant (2006)
Genre: AU- events of The Covenant happened in 2012, Blood, Childhood Abuse, Cock Warming, Death, F/M, Merpeople are real, NSFW, Pining, Recovery isn't linear, Smut, Struggles with Addiction, Vaginal, Violence, abuse survivor, extreme violence against inanimate objects, hedge witch!reader, magic addiction, oral (f receiving), recovering from addiciton, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 18:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15395307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction/pseuds/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction
Summary: As a Hedge Witch, you usually keep to yourself, performing odd jobs here and there for superstitious (and wealthy) people to exercise demons or expel ghosts or whatever. Sometimes this means just reading out of your book for a half an hour to give the customer peace of mind. Other times it means accidentally materializing a murderous warlock back into the physical plane.Chase Collins is a Son of Ipswich, banished from the physical plane in 2012, six years ago. He is a magic addict and a murderer. Still, that doesn’t stop you from growing close to him as time goes by. Perhaps there is more to him than the stories you heard?





	Contrition

## 

[Originally posted by captaincentenarian](https://tmblr.co/ZMNc-g28a2zMF)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

You hated Ipswich. Hated the Sons of Ipswich and the way they used magic. The town was boring, but the people were superstitious (dating all the way back to the age of witch hunts), which meant you’d get jobs there on occasion.

So when you got a job from someone complaining about an old, haunted farmhouse, you groaned. It was more than likely one of the Sons playing pranks on the unsuspecting, naive townsfolk, but money was money so you packed up your tomes and reagents and drove partway across the country.

On the off chance it was an actual haunting, you brought salt, iron, and enough herbs for a bevvy of smudge sticks.

The drive wasn’t particularly intriguing and you went through at least ten CDs on the trip (you cursed being in the middle of nowhere where not even radio signals could reach). Your GPS crapped out the closer you got to the town until you eventually had to start actually reading street signs.

“Stupid-fucking-middle-of-nowhere-hick-town,” you muttered bitterly.

You were so focused on trying to find the road you needed that you nearly drove straight into a man who was crossing the street.

Well, “man” was perhaps a bit too generous. He couldn’t be older than thirty and was one of the damn SOIs.

You had half a mind to plow through him just to make him use magic, but slammed your foot on the break at the last second. You glared at him as he walked over to the driver’s side window, nearly retching at the smell of degenerative magic wafting off him.

“The hell do you want, SOI?” you asked, having half a mind to just drive away.

He frowned down at you, confusion lining his features. His dark brown eyes scanned the inside of your car and you had half a mind to hex him just for that. “You almost ran me over with your car and now you’re calling me a bean plant?” he asked, swagger making you want to punch him in his stupid face.

“S.O.I.,” you said with barely-contained annoyance. “Son of Ipswich.”

His face darkened as he stared down at you, posture suddenly tense. “I know we’re kinda well-known around here, but how could you tell I’m a Son of Ipswich from just a glance?” he asked, smile tight.

You rolled your eyes. “Please, I could smell your consuming magic from miles away.”

He stood straighter and your hairs stood on end as he gathered his powers, preparing to fight you, but you were already waving him away.

“I ain’t here for you, SOI. I’m not here to cause trouble. Just got called for a job,” you said disinterestedly. “You gonna leave the me hell alone or are we gonna have a problem?”

He stared at you for a moment longer before relaxing ever so slightly. “I’m going to tell the others about you. Don’t be surprised if one of them drops in on you later.”

You glared up at him, hand reaching for one of your wards, just in case. “If one of you ruins my cleansing we’re gonna have issues.”

He smirked at that. “I get it now. You’re a hedge witch.”

You bristled at his tone. How dare _he_ , with his necrotic, draining magic, judge you? You’d live ten of his lifetimes, existing more nobly than he ever could.

You bit back a plethora of curses and instead smiled in a manner you hoped was disarming. “I’m going to say this once, and only once: Leave me to my own devices while I’m in Ipswich and we won’t have any issues. Cross me while I’m working and you’ll live to regret it.”

He seemed to regard you for a moment before extending his hand. You flinched away from it, hand tightening on your ward, before you realized he meant to shake your hand.

“The name’s Caleb Danvers,” he said when you still hadn’t moved to take his hand.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I know that name. You ascended a few years ago. Blasted the Fifth into oblivion.”

He looked suddenly sheepish and perhaps a bit nervous, which was odd for a man of his stature and power. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice to know my reputation precedes me.”

You leaned back into your seat, unimpressed, flat stare boring holes through his skull.

He sighed. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. It was wrong of me to test you like that. I could tell you were different but I couldn’t tell how. Let me make it up to you by making sure Pogue, Reid, and Tyler stay out of your hair while you’re in town?” he asked, all toothy smiles.

You scoffed. “Nah, let em bother me. I’ll send ‘em back as toads, just to amuse myself,” you said, perhaps a bit too spitefully.

Caleb let out a deep sigh. “I can tell I’m not going to win you over. Just… good luck with whatever you’re doing, alright?”

You glared at him. “I don’t need luck, Son of Ipswich. Keep it, because you need it more than I ever will.”

And without saying another word to him you shifted your car into gear and resumed your search.

* * *

 

A barn. Your client- a frazzled middle aged woman whose name you couldn’t be fucked to remember- wanted you to cleanse a barn. She’d apparently bought the land recently and while she was trying to clean up the barn, a few strange occurrences had her questioning her sanity. Scared, confused, and superstitious, her search for someone who could remedy the supernatural led her to you.

She refused to go anywhere near the property until you were done so you made the trip down the pothole ridden one-lane dirt road in your Jeep by yourself.

The barn was really more of an open field where a barn had one stood. A few support beams still existed, but it was clear from a glance a fire had destroyed most of the original building. You had to watch your footing as you clambered through the tall grass with books and reagents in-hand, as old farm tools (some of which still looked dangerously sharp) were strewn about.

As soon as you got close, an uneasy feeling settled at the base of your spine, which immediately made you pay more attention to your surroundings. You’d learned long ago to listen to your senses, and right now they were telling you there was something dangerous nearby.

It seemed the lady wasn’t completely paranoid, after all. You’d have to work for your paycheck today.

You set your tomes down and grabbed the small white-wood bowl that was black on the inside from previous smudge sticks. You pulled a smudge stick from your coat pocket and lit it with a snap of your fingers.

You walked forward, waving it slowly, expecting some of the negative energy to dissipate, but it only seemed to get stronger the closer you got to what used to be the center of the barn.

It was almost suffocating, the negative energy swirling in the area. You’d been doing this a long time (much longer than someone would guess based on your appearance) and you’d never felt anything like this before.

You backed away slowly, realizing you’d have to bring out the big guns for this one. The smell made your nose scrunch up; rotting flesh not unlike that which you recognized from only the angriest, most violent spirits. It was better to be safe than sorry with cases like this.

You grabbed your tome, salt, and crystals from the spot a few yards/meters away and returned to the spot you’d left the smudge stick at. Once you found a space you were sure wasn’t full of sharp objects that’d puncture your ass, you took a seat. After pouring a small, neat salt circle you grabbed two more smudge sticks and levitated them short distances away to opposite sides of the barn. Even that didn’t do much to staunch the negative energy that seemed to be pouring out of the very air around you. You had an iron dagger by your side, ready to grab it at a moment’s notice if need be.

The tome’s pages creaked gently as you opened it and flipped to the page for cleansing spirits. The incantation was a long and powerful one, designed to rid an area of even the strongest spirit. Normally it’d be performed by a coven, but you were a Hedge Witch. You worked alone. In the space In Between.

Knowing you’d be at it for the better part of an hour, you grimaced and wiggled a bit, trying in vain to get just a little bit more comfortable. Realizing it was a fool’s errand, you began reading.

* * *

 

An hour. You read for an entire hour. Did the whole thing twice and still the foul energy permeated the area.

“That was interesting.”

You nearly jumped a foot in the air as you spun around, trying to see the person who’d just spoken.

No one was there.

You turned as you stood slowly, pivoting to look in every direction. Something had definitely spoken, but spirits were never that clear; you sensed their feelings and intent rather than hearing their words.

Suddenly, a fresh wave of the energy rolled over you and you fought the urge to gag.

You knew that smell.

You’d smelled it earlier today.

“Son of Ipswich,” you hissed, drawing your dagger.

“So you know what I am,” the voice said. It was loud, as though the speaker was right behind you, but when you turned there was nothing there. Again.

“Show yourself, coward,” you spat. “I have no time for your games. Which one are you? Caleb? Pogue? Tyler? Reid?” you asked, turning slowly on the spot. Your other hand slowly reached into your pocket, reaching for your warding crystal. If you could just see the bastard, then-

“Ha!” the voice laughed, though it sounded hateful rather than amused. “I’m not one of those losers.”

You spun, though you knew what you’d see: nothing. “Bullshit!” you swore, glaring at the air around you. “I know a Son of Ipswich when I smell one. I’d know that rotting stench anywhere. Now show yourself before I blow the whole area to hell.”

“Can’t do that, hot stuff. Whatever you did seriously messed with the In Between, but I can’t even make myself corporeal on the physical plane. Hell, I haven’t been able to see the physical plane in… what year is it?” the voice asked, suddenly sounding almost innocently curious. For the life of you, you couldn’t pinpoint where the voice was coming from.

Your best option was to keep him talking until you discovered his hiding spot. You weren’t buying his crap for a second. “2018,” you told him.

But he didn’t respond. You knew he was still there- his foul stench was still stinking the place up- but he’d stopped talking.

Finally, “Six years,” the voice breathed, sounding distraught.

You froze, mind slamming into overdrive. _Six years. Son of Ipswich._

“Chase? Chase Collins?” you whispered, hoping to hell you were being punked or something.

“How do you know that name?” he asked, sounding wary now.

You stood there, dumbstruck. “Everyone in the magical community knows the story. Chase Goodwin Pope, the missing son of Ipswich. Addicted to his powers, he tried to forcibly take the powers of the other Sons of Ipswich. Killed his adoptive parents and an innocent schoolmate to hide his secret,” you said, facts rolling off your tongue without you having to think about them. This was bad. This was very, very bad. You’d weakened the In Between in the area by performing your cleansing, letting Chase, who’d been banished from the world by Caleb, once again see the physical realm.

Chase growled his anger. “Now you’re the one spouting bullshit. You don’t know anything about me,” he spat. The energy around you came to a crescendo and you fought back the urge to heave the contents of your stomach up on the spot.

He was stronger than any spirit would be and he’d be trapped In Between for eternity if you didn’t do something. People would get hurt. He’d drive people insane and his ability to traverse the In Between would only grow the longer you left him.

“Fine. Then tell me about it. Face to face,” you said, steeling yourself as you took a deep breath through your mouth.

He barked out a short, bitter laugh. “Are you mocking me now, little witch? You think I’d still be trapped in this hell if I had the power to free myself?”

You glared at the space in front of you. “I can get you out.”

He sounded surprised and dubious when he spoke next. “And why would you do that?”

You frowned. “’Cause you’re too dangerous to normal humans in there,” you said. Then, your lips tilted up into a challenging smirk. “Plus, I can’t kill you proper unless you’re in the physical realm.”

Chase’s laugh was loud and amused. “You think you can kill me, Hedge Witch?” he asked. It was clear from his tone what he thought the chances of that were.

You crossed your arms and shrugged. “Well, if you’re so sure that I can’t kill you then what’ve you got to lose? You get to walk free in the physical realm and kill an insolent Hedge Witch as a bonus.”

Chase took a moment to respond, but he sounded just as cocky and self-assured as ever. “Do the spell, Hedge Witch.”

You smirked. “I knew you’d come around. You need to perform the same spell from your side too. I take it you can see my spellbook?” you asked, nodding down the book in question.

“Yeah, it was the first thing I saw when the world started forming around me… besides your ugly mug, of course.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Sit across the book from me. I have it memorized so I’ll let you read off of it,” you ordered as you sat back down on your well worn spot. You felt the energy shift around you as he moved in the In Between.

When he spoke again, he sounded like he was only a foot or so in front of you. “Let’s get this over with, then. I haven’t casted in six years and I miss the feeling,” he said.

You glowered at the space in front of you, but nodded. “Yeah, the sooner this is over the better.”

* * *

“It didn’t work,” Chase bitched, still as invisible as ever.

 

You smirked, fighting back a laugh. “Yeah, it did.” You winced as you felt a strong wave of energy flow through you.

“Well your head’s still attached to your shoulders so I’m gonna have to say no, no it didn’t,” he argued.

“That’s because that wasn’t the spell to get you into the physical realm,” you said, barely holding back a shit-eating grin.

There was a pause, then he spoke, deadly calm, “What the fuck did you do?”

“Where are you, exactly? In relation to me?” you asked, reaching into your pocket to pull out a thin cyan crystal.

“About two feet in front of you and a little to your left,” Chase said bitterly. “Now are you going to tell me what that shit was for, or-”

His words died in his throat as you crushed the crystal in your hand. Cyan smoke enveloped the area around you and you quickly stepped back, waving the smoke away as Chase Collins slowly materialized.

He was looking down at his hands as though he could barely believe it. He lifted a shoe and then placed it back down on the ground uncertainly, grinning when it hit the ground. He even did a little hop which would have been cute if he wasn’t a damn murdering psychopath.

He looked up at you and you forgot to breathe for a moment as those clear blue-grey eyes zeroed in on you. No wonder Caleb and the other Sons had been so quick to trust him. With a face like that, who wouldn’t?

“Thank you, little Hedge Witch. But I’ll be going now,” he said, grinning viciously as he stuck a hand out, likely to send a bone-crushing concussive blast your way.

You smiled blandly as exactly nothing happened.

The smile slowly slipped off his face and he looked down at his hand like he didn’t recognize it. His gaze snapped back up to you and he thrust his hand out again, but, once more, nothing happened.

He stared at you with rapidly growing horror. “What did you do?”

You smirked at him like a cat that caught the canary. “ _We_ sealed away your powers,” you said with probably more satisfaction than was necessary.

Chase looked at you, horrified. “That’s the spell we performed? You took away my powers? That shouldn’t even be possible! I should be dead!” he said, sounding both scared and angry.

You rolled your eyes and began gathering up your things. “Yeah, well, there are plenty of things you SOIs don’t know because you think you’re too good for certain magics.”

He was advancing on you menacingly, closing the distance between you in only a few long strides. “I don’t need magic to kill you, you fucking bi-”

You looked up just in time to watch him get blown backward the second he tried to touch you. He flew at least fifteen feet through the air and landed in a heap in the tall grass.

“Oh yeah, did I forget to tell you you can’t touch me without my permission?” you asked with a smirk.

“Fuck you!” Chase yelled back, sounding more than a little winded.

You tucked your tome under your arm and grabbed the last little bits of crystals and other paraphernalia that had come out of your bags and pockets during the excitement.

“Come on, then,” you called to him, turning your back on him to walk back towards your Jeep.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you crazy fucking Hedge Witch!” he yelled. From the sound of it he was on his feet again and walking towards you.

“Then you can stay here and wait for the other Sons to find you, powerless and alone,” you countered, not bothering to turn around when you felt your wards catch an object he’d flung at the back of your head. You heard something heavy and metallic fall to the ground a second later, followed by a muttered curse.

“Your choice, Goodwin-Pope-Collins, but choose fast. I got places to be and I’m not coming back,” you said, as you placed your tools carefully into the back seat of your car.

You weren’t too surprised when you heard the passenger-side door opening as you slid into the driver’s seat.

You glanced over at Chase who, if looks could kill, would have murdered you ten times over. “Good choice,” you said with a smile as you turned the Jeep on and did a U-turn in the grass and headed back towards town.

* * *

One glamour crystal and a thousand dollars later you were on the highway, Ipswich a distant speck in your rear view mirror.

“So you’re a con artist,” Chase said from his spot in the passenger seat, staring at you with as much judgement as he could muster.

You smirked. “Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes I do real work… but when there isn’t I like to think of it as being paid to give people peace of mind,” you explained.

“A thousand bucks is a lot of money for peace of mind,” Chase said, obviously annoyed. “Where are you taking me?” he asked suddenly, turning those sharp steel blue eyes on you.

You shrugged lazily as you sped down the nearly-empty highway. “Dunno yet. Not so sure I should let you outta my sight. Something tells me you’re dangerous even without your powers.”

He didn’t respond to that, instead changing tactics. “What did you do with my powers?”

“Sealed ‘em,” you said as you turned up the stereo, attempting to tune him out.

He growled in frustration and turned the volume down to almost nothing. “What does that even mean?” he asked angrily.

You glared at him, but returned your eyes back to the road after a second. “Exactly what it sounds like. I sealed your powers away so you can’t use ‘em. They’re still part of you which is why you’re not six feet under right now, but you can’t access ‘em,” you explained.

“How did you get me out of the astral realm?” he asked, obviously trying to catch you unawares.

“I’m a Hedge Witch, idiot. The In Between is a place I know intimately even if I don’t frequent it myself. Getting you out was easier than banishing a restless spirit,” you snarked.

He stared at you flatly for a second or two. “I hate you,” he deadpanned.

You nearly laughed at that and a mirthless smile worked its way onto your face. “Feeling’s mutual, pal.”

* * *

 

By the time you pulled into the driveway of your home, Chase had grown tired of grilling you for information. You were sure he wasn’t done, but he at least had the decency to pause long enough to eat and sleep.

“Wake up, fucker,” you said, throwing a used napkin at his face.

He jolted awake instantly and grabbed sleepily at the napkin, finally looking up and glaring at you when it made an audible squishing noise in his hand. “Where are we?” he asked tersely as he peered up through the windshield at your little one-floor country house with unmistakable disdain. There wasn’t another house around for over a mile.

“My home,” you said with a smirk as you opened the door to your car and hopped down onto the pavement. You heard the passenger door open and close and a second later Chase was as close as he could be to you without being blasted away by your wards while you gathered your items up from the back seat.

“And why the hell did you bring me here?” he spat.

You carefully juggled your things in your hands and used your hip to shut the door, giving him a dirty look when he didn’t move to help you at all. “Because you’re dangerous and I can’t in good conscience let you out into the world,” you said as you trundled over to your front door, thankful you’d had the foresight to have your keys in your hands before you got to the door.

“And what’s to stop me from just leaving?” he asked, barely two feet away.

“Nothing, really, but you won’t,” you said as you unlocked the door and practically fell through the doorway in an attempt to keep everything from tumbling to the ground.

You could feel him glaring holes through the back of your skull as you placed your things down in the entryway (putting them away was a problem for a later date- you were dead on your feet). “Because you’re the only way I can get my powers back,” he guessed shrewdly.

You turned to look at him, hand on your cocked hip. “Ooh, I guess there’s something in that noggin after all,” you said, giving him a pat on the head before he could flinch away. His hair was silky soft, which you hadn’t been expecting. When he wasn’t blasted back into the front door he looked at you incredulously for a moment before a wicked grin crept onto his face, but you dashed his hopes before he tried something stupid. “Nah ah, don’t even think about it. The wards are still in place. I can touch you if I want, but you can’t touch me unless I let you.”

He groaned and ran a hand over his face. “So I’m stuck with you until I can figure out how to get my powers back. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

You rolled your eyes and walked to the kitchen. “You’re not getting your powers back,” you said, rifling through the pantry for something remotely edible. You really should clean it out more often, but that was so much work and the fungus was sometimes useful for potions.

“Says you,” Chase said defiantly as he trailed after you like the world’s angriest, murderiest puppy.

You whirled on him, his attitude finally getting the better of your patience. “Look you stupid, arrogant, high-chasing witch boy,” you spat, poking him so hard in the chest that he almost lost his balance. “Your powers eat away at your life force. They’re addictive and sanity-inducing. They corrupt anything and everything around them but you dense motherfuckers never seem to realize that! You use and use and use until you’re wrinkled and decrepit at forty! Even Sons who grow up knowing about their powers don’t always have the ability to stop themselves from using! You didn’t have that. You grew up using more than any of the other four Sons combined, not knowing what it’d mean the moment you hit eighteen. You deluded yourself into thinking you could extend your life if you took the other Sons’ powers- their very lives-, but that’s not how it works! Don’t you see, you absolute fucking dimwit? I did you a fucking favor by sealing your powers. You’ll be able to see your twentieth damn birthday! You can have a _life_!” you yelled, having gotten louder and louder the longer you spoke without realizing it.

Chase looked murderous as he loomed over you. “And I didn’t ask for that! I didn’t want this you pretentious bitch! I _need_ my magic! It’s a part of me and it’s not your right to take that away from me!” he screamed, face beginning to turn red from anger.

You took a deep, calming breath and stared him dead in the eyes. “If you’re trying to convince me that you’re in control of your decisions, you’re doing a poor job.”

Chase lunged for you with a barely human snarl, nearly causing you to flinch, but he was readily repelled backwards by your wards. He landed in the kitchen in a heap, scattering pots, pans, and spices everywhere.

He let out a string of curses that would have made the devil himself blush and stood as though he’d merely been sitting down on the floor and not been blown fifteen feet into a solid countertop.

You watched calmly as he reached for anything and everything. Dishes and glassware were dashed upon the tiled floor. Silverware was thrown through your windows. Food was flung across all the surfaces. He didn’t try throwing anything at you, instead focusing on destroying anything he could see. Cupboards were ripped from their hinges and used to dent the sides of the refrigerator and oven. The glass top of the stove survived the assault of the cupboard drawer only to be shattered into a spiderweb pattern by the electric mixer.

He didn’t stop, even when not a single thing in your kitchen remained whole. Instead he moved to the living room and you watched quietly as he began destroying everything there, too.

By the time he was done, the stuffing from your couch and pillows made the room look almost festive, as though it had snowed indoors. All of your cluttered knick-knacks were in pieces on the floor and each and every window was shattered, ensuring the living room was now drafty.

When he began walking down the hall, though, you narrowed your eyes, patience once again wearing thin. He was sick, but even your kindness had its limits.

He reached out for the door handle on the right and you moved quick as lightning, tossing a deep blue crystal at him, which shattered on impact with his arm and enveloped him in a thick, stifling fog.

You watched as he slumped slowly then eventually passed out on his feet and fell to the floor with an almighty thud.

You sighed as you walked over to him and nudged him with your foot. Out like a light.

When asleep, he looked almost _cute_. Innocent, peaceful. Not like a man capable of destroying half of your possessions in a fit of rage.

You grumbled your annoyance as you hefted him onto and over your shoulder.

The walk to the spare room was a little less than graceful (Chase wasn’t exactly small and you could tell just from this simple contact that he was very, very fit). You ended up dropping him accidentally when you tried to open the door and only just barely managed to stop him from landing on his neck with a last minute hover spell.

You opened the door and carefully pushed him into the room, doing your best to avoid running him into errant table or chair legs. One slight struggle of lifting him into the bed later and your mission was accomplished. You huffed in satisfaction and exhaustion in equal measure as you ran a hand through your hair. You glanced down at him and your breath caught in your throat. The warm evening sun streamed in through the windows, alighting the particles that danced in the air around you before finally landing on Chase’s sleeping form. You found yourself perching on the edge of the bed without thinking about it, hand outstretched towards him. His hair, which normally stood up thanks to some sort of hair product, had fallen onto his forehead and you brushed it aside with the lightest of touches.

He was gorgeous. Intelligent. Driven.

And so, so tragic.

With a sigh you tore your eyes from his sleeping form and left the room, leaving the door unlocked so he wouldn’t tear a hole through the wall to the outside world or something when he woke up.

You went to your room- the first door on the right- and collapsed onto your bed with a pathetic groan. What had you been thinking? Taking a Son of Ipswich with you, and the most insane one at that? Surely you’d sustained brain damage in your years on this green earth.

No, helping things is what you did, whether it be an under-watered plant, a bird with a broken wing, or a half-insane magic-addicted warlock.

You set the alarm on your phone to go off relatively early in the morning, though you had a feeling you’d be woken up by your house guest long before then, and buried your face into your pillow, not even bothering to remove your clothes.

“It’s gonna be a long, long few months…” you grunted to no one in particular. Your bedroom kept its impartial silence and you sighed once more before sleep took you.

 

 

 

* * *

Three months, eleven days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-three minutes. That was how long it took until Chase didn’t wake up and immediately set to work on destroying every single thing you owned (sans the items in your bedroom, which you’d warded to hell and back. Now every time he touched the handle he received a shock that nearly knocked him unconscious).

Each time, every day after you’d put him to sleep, you used your Rewinder to undo the damage, grimacing as it sapped your energy from you.

But today was different. You awoke to your alarm instead of the sound of dishes or windows breaking. 

You blinked against the light a few times before fumbling for your phone, groaning as you blindly tapped for the off button. Mercifully, you hit it on the third attempt and the horrible screeching pings cut off instantly. You laid in bed for a few seconds more, nearly falling back asleep before the unusualness of the entire situation slammed into you like a ton of bricks.

The sun was nearly blinding as it leaked in past your shades and you were up and out of bed in a flash, tripping over your scattered books and reagents as you lunged for the door handle.

You sprinted through the house, starting with Chase’s room then moving to every other room, each time cursing when you didn’t find him.

“Chase? Chase!” you called, doing another lap just in case you’d somehow missed him.

It took you a second to realize all of your possessions had survived the morning, which hadn’t happened since the day before you brought him home.

Frantic now, you bolted for the door, pausing only long enough to grab your keys and wallet from the bowl beside the door (also warded; Chase would be burned if he tried to touch either of these items).

You yanked the door open, the fact that it hadn’t been locked registering dully in the back of your mind, and ran straight into Chase.

Thankfully, your wards didn’t send him flying, but your inertia _did_ send him stumbling back a few steps.

He glared at you, but it was better than the screaming that you were used to. “Watch where you’re going…” he muttered grumpily as he slid past you and back into the house.

You turned to watch him as he went, eyes widening in surprise. That was, perhaps, the most civil thing he’d said to you in months. Slightly slack-jawed, you stepped back inside and closed the front door, staring at his back with apprehension as he made his way to the kitchen.

You chewed on your lip as you debated whether you should take this small blessing or push your luck. Not knowing when to leave well enough alone, you decided to speak up.

“Where did you go?” you asked.

He didn’t stop digging through the pantry but his posture tensed slightly, sending apprehension through you in a wave. “You asking ‘cause you’re worried about me or other people?” he asked, just a little bitterly.

You winced. “Both?” you answered honestly, not wanting to lie to him.

That got him to turn around and give you a flat, assessing stare. Finally, he turned back to the pantry and pulled out a jar of peanut butter. He stopped at the fridge and pulled out a jar of your homemade jam and shoved it under his arm with the peanut butter. Finally, as he was pulling out the loaf of freshly-baked bread from the bread box, he answered you. “I went for a walk,” he said cryptically.

“A walk?” you parroted, confused.

“You know, that thing you do where you use your legs to go places, usually very slowly,” he said dryly as he began assembling his sandwich.

You glared at him. “You know what I mean.”

He shrugged, not looking up from his masterpiece. “Dunno if I do. Am I not allowed to leave the house now? You didn’t put wards up to stop me, so I assumed it was alright if I left,” he shot back.

You narrowed your eyes shrewdly at him. “So you just… went for a walk… at seven a.m.”

He nodded and screwed the lids back on the peanut butter and jam then threw the butter knife in the sink where it clattered loudly a few times before finally settling.

You crossed your arms and stared at him a little while longer before you sighed and shrugged. “I’m not your jailer. You can come and go if you please, I suppose.”

He finally glanced up at you, eyes calculating. “Because you know I won’t go far.”

Your face remained impassive even if you winced guiltily on the inside. “That’s up to you in the end, isn’t it?” you said instead.

He took a huge bite of his sandwich and didn’t answer, instead walking past you and into the living room where he sat down at the couch and flicked the TV on. It was almost odd seeing him sitting on the couch he’d destroyed more times than you could count, watching shows on the TV he shattered almost gleefully every day.

You studied him for a minute in the doorway, knowing full well he was paying more attention to you than it seemed he was. Finally, you made your mind up. “I’m taking a job today,” you told him, just barely loud enough to be heard over whatever awful daytime shows he was flipping through detachedly.

That finally got him to look at you and you nearly laughed; his cheeks were slightly pudgy from the giant bites of sandwich. He chewed and swallowed thickly. “I’m coming with you,” he said the moment his mouth was no longer blocked with sticky peanut butter and jelly.

You smirked, knowing that’s what he’d say. You finally didn’t have to waste your energy turning back all the damage to your house, which meant you could take a job. Something small, in case he flipped his shit again tomorrow. “Yeah, fine. Just shower first, alright? Maybe change your clothes, too. Imelda is one of my best clients and I won’t lose her business because you smell and look like you fell in a dumpster outside Joe’s Crab Shack.”

Chase looked down at himself as if noticing for the first time how disgusting he was. He wrinkled his nose and wordlessly got up, heading directly for the room you’d begun to think of as his.

While he was busy you returned to your room and began gathering everything you needed for a trip to Imelda’s. She was a paranoid middle aged woman who liked you to cleanse her house at least twice a year. The first time you’d visited she actually did have a malevolent spirit haunting her and, even after you assured her you’d expelled it, she refused to let her house go un-cleansed for more than six months at a time. She’d been bothering you for weeks to come out and it was getting harder and harder to deny her as time went on.

By the time Chase left his room in clean clothes, hair a little damp and smelling distinctly of the strawberry shampoo you’d left in the bathroom for him, your supplies were in your Jeep and you were lounging on the couch. He walked over to you and loomed over you and you glared at him as a drop of water from his hair landed on your forehead. He smirked, seemingly satisfied he could annoy you in this small way, and you wiped the water from your face.

“Ready to go?” you asked perhaps a little too angrily because his smile widened immediately.

“Lead the way,” he said benevolently, arm held out towards the door.

You sighed. Today was going to be a long day.

* * *

“Oh thank goodness you’re here!” Imelda gushed as soon as you opened the door to her house _(see: mansion)_. “I swear there’s something in the house again!” Her lined, flabby but kind face wobbled dangerously as she spoke. She peered past you at Chase and her eyes widened slightly. “Dios mío,” she swore softly while crossing herself. You couldn’t tell if she was nervous or in love… or both.

You smiled in what you hoped was a comforting way. “Sorry about the delay. I’ve been working with my new apprentice. I regret to say he’s been a bit of a handful and has taken up most of my time recently. Imelda, this is Chase. Chase, Imelda,” you said, watching Chase like a hawk as he stepped forward, all swagger and easy smiles, and took Imelda’s hand.

He was nothing but a gentleman as he brought her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss to her knuckles. “Pleasure’s all mine, miss,” he said winningly.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, but Imelda’s earlier apprehension had melted into a smitten expression. Well, hell. If it meant he’d keep Imelda out of your hair while you worked or got you more money, you wouldn’t complain. You would not, however, trust Chase alone with her. Not unless you warded Imelda better than your room and you didn’t have the energy for that right now.

“C’mon, loverboy. We have things to do,” you said, grabbing him by the back of his shirt, and headed towards the center of the house. “We’ll be out of your hair in just a little bit, Imelda,” you promised as you turned the corner.

“Not too soon, I hope…” you heard Imelda say quietly. Judging from the way Chase’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter, he’d heard her, too.

“Yeah, laugh it up. Just wait until she gropes you when you least expect it,” you whispered, releasing his shirt and turning your head to glare at him over your shoulder.

He sobered up only marginally and fell into step beside you. “Why don’t you have a place like this?” he asked somewhat pettily in lieu of dignifying your comment with a response.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t like big houses. Too much space,” you answered honestly.

Chase frowned at that then stopped walking altogether. It took you a second to realize he’d stopped and you came to a halt and turned to look at him, confused.

He was looking at you with shocked incredulity. “You mean you could afford a place like this?” he asked, sounding almost offended.

You shrugged, took an appraising look around, then nodded. “Yeah, but I’d get one with a pool if I ever did.”

Chase’s mouth opened and closed a few times as though he couldn’t decide what to say. Finally, he decided on, “But you live in a dump!”

You frowned at that and crossed your arms. “Uncalled for! I like my house. It’s homey.”

He glared at that. “I think you mean homely.”

You rolled your eyes and continued walking towards the center of the house. “That’s no way to treat someone who’s feeding, housing, and clothing you free of charge.”

Chase had finally started walking again and he sounded extremely bitter when he mumbled, “Not like that’s my choice.”

You sighed as you turned into one of the many sitting rooms in the mansion. “You always have a choice, Chase,” you said, not unkindly. You knew he was looking at you mutinously but, thankfully, he didn’t try to fight you on that point. Maybe he’d made more progress than you’d first realized.

You began moving furniture out of the center of the room and were surprised to see Chase helping you without being asked.

_Suspicious._

A minute later there was a sizeable space in the center of the room and you immediately began unpacking your tomes and reagents from the bag slung over your shoulder.

“Place these candles in a circle around us,” you said, handing Chase a small handful of tealights.

Chase raised an eyebrow at them but took them anyway, dutifully placing them around you in a circle. You pulled out a smudge stick and lighter and lit the end, letting it burn for a few seconds before you blew the flame out and let it smoulder gently, instantly filling the space with the smell of burnt sage and other sacred herbs.

“You didn’t light it with your magic,” Chase said, almost accusatory.

You looked up at him as you placed the smudge stick in the wooden bowl and shrugged. “Don’t need magic to perform a cleansing. At least, not the kinda magic you’re used to.”

Chase frowned at that and sat down in the circle of candles. He looked lost in thought as you finished placing your crystals. Finally, he looked up at you, looking dubious. “In fact… I haven’t seen you use magic since you found me in Ipswich.”

You purposefully didn’t look at him as you flipped through your tome for the right page. You always performed magic after you’d knocked him unconscious for the night. He hadn’t seen you cast since he was in the In Between all those months ago. “I don’t cast around you for the same reason I wouldn’t drink around an alcoholic,” you said finally when it was clear he wouldn’t let the subject drop without an answer from you. Chase’s eyes narrowed at that and you spoke again before he tried to tear you a new asshole. “You’re an addict. You can deny that all you want, but you are. I’ve read enough about SOIs, seen enough of them die to their own magic, that I know what I’m talking about. I’m not a sadist, though. I know it hurts you beyond words to not be able to cast anymore and I won’t add to that by dangling my magic in front of you.”

Chase’s eyes were stormy as he mulled over your words. You couldn’t tell if he was about to go on another rampage or break down and beg while crying. “Why don’t your powers eat away at you?” he asked instead, surprising you. You’d wondered why he hadn’t asked that before today, but then you remembered this is the most civil you’d seen him in months.

“I borrow them from nature,” you said, finally pausing in your endeavors to find the right page. “And then I give back,” you said, struggling to find the right words to explain how your powers worked.

Chase seemed to understand, though. “The garden… and the lake…” he muttered.

You smiled a little and nodded. “Yes, the garden and the lake. Occasionally I’d even rehabilitate an animal, but your noise-making has scared off any creature with ears in a ten-mile radius. I take care of them and keep the land clear and healthy and in return…”

“The earth gives you some of its power,” Chase finished, looking up at you as if seeing you for the first time.

You shrugged. “Some of the power is my own, honed after years of careful trial and error, but the more powerful spells are courtesy of the earth.”

Chase looked intrigued. “What can you do with your own power?”

You frowned, wondering if this was a safe conversation to have with him. Probably not, but this was the most engaged he’d been since you’d met him. “Small things. Parlor tricks compared to the power of an ascended warlock. I can light things with a snap of my fingers, turn water to ice and back, make things levitate for a short period, and empower wards.”

Chase smirked at that which immediately irked you. “Really? That’s it?”

You returned to looking through your book, annoyed. “Yes, that’s it. I’m a Hedge Witch, not an ascended Warlock, so forgive me if my powers aren’t that flashy.”

“But you can do more when you draw power from the earth,” Chase said, sounding a little less irreverent.

You nodded as you finally found the last page. “Though I mostly use what the earth has to offer rather than taking its power into myself. Its power is a gift, not something I steal for my own gain.”

Chase looked thoughtful at that. “Does it feel good? Like my powers?”

You paused and looked up at him, considering. “I can never know exactly what your powers feel like, but from the way it’s been described to me it’s less of the high that you feel and more… refreshing? Like a cool drink of water after a long run, the smell of freshly laundered clothes, or the sound of the sea.” It was a little abstract, but you didn’t know how else to explain it. It was… feeling the earth. Chase looked confused but you didn’t try to explain it further. “But it’s all-encompassing. I lose myself in it if I’m not careful. I lost three days of time when I let in too much when I was younger. I’ve been careful ever since. Instead I stick mostly to potions, crystals, and incantations.”

Now that you had the right page you moved to light the candles with your lighter, but Chase’s voice made you freeze halfway to the first one.

“Please,” he said softly. You turned your head slowly to look at him, trying to keep the shock off your face. It looked like he was physically in pain when he spoke again. “Please light them with your magic,” he said quietly. It was clear from his tone that he expected to be rejected.

You stared at him for a second or two longer, conflicted. On one hand, casting in front of him could set him off. On the other, he’d asked nicely (even if he looked like he’d swallowed a lemon).

“Come here,” you said, patting the space directly in front of you.

He looked like he expected a trap, but moved anyway, shuffling carefully to the spot you’d indicated. The moment he was in place you unceremoniously parted his legs (ignoring the suggestive eyebrow waggle) and placed yourself carefully between his legs, your back to his chest.

“Not that I don’t enjoy this position, but-” he began, but you cut across him.

“Shut up and hold my hand,” you said quickly, holding your non-dominant hand out for him to take.

You could practically feel him staring at you curiously as he took your hand in his. His hands were a little softer than you’d been expecting considering he’d spent every day of the last nearly four months destroying your house with his bare hands.

You reached into your bag and pulled out a small purple crystal which you shoved into your intertwined hands.

“What’s-”

“Shut up,” you said again, but with a little less feeling than the first time.

You gathered your power in your hands and you felt his sharp intake of breath, knowing full well he could feel everything you were. You nearly squeaked in surprise and he plastered himself to your back. His free arm went around your waist as he buried his face in your neck. You shivered as his breath fanned against your neck and fought hard to keep focused.

“Chase-” you began, but he immediately rumbled his displeasure at whatever you were about to say.

“Feels good. Warm. Comfortable. Not like my powers. Cleaner,” he murmured, voice low and syrupy. You imagined he sounded like this just after he woke up or-

You felt heat rush to your cheeks and redoubled your efforts, trying in vain to ignore the sudden sloth-like habits exhibited by the warlock.

Your energy coalesced in your dominant hand and you could hear Chase’s breath hitch at the movement.

You snapped your fingers and suddenly the energy dissipated into the air around you, manifesting in flames that lit the wicks of the candles.

A shudder ran down Chase’s spine and it was a few moments before he moved again, finally moving his face from the spot where your neck met your shoulders. Without him there it suddenly felt cold and you almost wished he’d move back.

“Does it always feel like that for you?” he asked quietly, not yet peeling himself away from your back. In fact, he almost seemed to be pulling you closer.

You paused and thought about it for a second. You’d long stopped thinking about the way your magic felt as it rolled through you the way most people forgot how their clothes felt against their skin at any given moment. “Yeah, I guess so,” you admitted.

He was silent for a little bit, considering. “I think I get what you meant that first day,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” you questioned gently, not wanting to scare him off now that he’d finally seemed to be opening up a bit.

“That we smell horrible. Our powers reek. I never had anything to compare it to, but-” the rest of his words died in his throat and he placed his forehead against your shoulder. There was no doubt in your mind he was pulling you closer this time. “Think I get it now,” he admitted quietly.

You let him stew on that thought for a little bit before you spoke up.

“But you still want your powers back.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” he confirmed, though he sounded more conflicted about it than you ever thought he’d be. His voice was muffled by your shirt.

“That’s never going to get easier, you know. You’re always going to want to use,” you told him gently.

“I know,” he stated, sounding almost angry about it.

You let him sit there and hold you like a drowning man would clutch a life preserver. The candles burned evenly, only occasionally flickering by an errant breeze from the rest of the house or a breath from you or Chase. Realizing he wasn’t going to move any time soon, you pulled your tome into your lap with your free hand and began reciting the words on the page. By the time you finished, the fingers intertwined with Chase’s had begun to lose circulation, but you didn’t want to move until he was ready.

“Why did you do it?” you whispered, letting your curiosity get the better of you. If this was the only time he was ever going to talk to you openly you wanted to know as much as you could.

“Mm?” he hummed distractedly, body relaxed against your back.

“Why did you kill them? Your foster parents and the boy from your school.”

He went rigid immediately but didn’t move away, a testament to how content he’d been up until that moment.

“When we first met you said I didn’t know anything about you. It sounded like there was a story there. A story no one else knew. I just… wanted to give you a chance to tell your side of the story.” You hoped that not having to face one another would make this just that tiny bit easier for him.

You’d just about given up hope of him telling you when he squeezed your hand gently and spoke, his voice leaving in a whisper at first before he cleared his throat and sound came out in earnest. “My foster parents- they didn’t know about my powers. I kept it hidden since it manifested at thirteen. I was scared of what would happen if they knew. I didn’t know anyone else like me. The more I used, though, the better it felt. So I used more and more, not knowing what would happen when I turned eighteen.”

All of his words came forth in a torrent, like he couldn’t stop now that he’d started. “My foster parents… they were rich. Used adopting me as a publicity stunt. They didn’t give a rat’s ass about me the moment the cameras turned away. My foster father used me as a punching bag whenever something didn’t go his way- or just for fun- and my foster mother blamed me for his distance and his ire. She wasn’t ever physically abusive like he was, but she withheld food from me more often than not. Told me how worthless I was and how grateful I should be every day. For five years I bit back every retort I felt on the tip of my tongue. Never used my powers against them or others. Then, the day of my 18th birthday, my parents were driving us back home from my party, which was more of an excuse for my parents to show off their wealth to their friends and my dad said something- I can’t even remember what- and I snapped.”

He took a deep shuddering breath and you held perfectly still, not wanting to break the moment. “I didn’t mean to run the car off the road. I didn’t know my powers were stronger yet. All I meant to do was make it swerve a bit; the road was wet and my foster father was a little tipsy so I didn’t think they’d even notice. I just wanted to scare them a bit. But the car flew off the side of the road and wrapped around a telephone pole. I barely managed to shield myself in time and-” he paused, as though weighing his words. “I took their money once they were dead. I didn’t want them to die but I didn’t feel bad, either,” he admitted honestly. “I used it to track down my birth parents. My real father told me about my powers… and then gifted me the last of his powers. Told me to take revenge on the other Sons of Ipswich. Gave me the whole story about my ancestors and the other families. Enraged, alone, and confused, I did it. I enrolled in the school the other Sons were attending. Set out to take their powers because I wanted them. There was nothing more important than getting their powers once they ascended. Caleb was the first to turn eighteen so I set my sights on him.”

He paused again, and suddenly he sounded like he was having trouble thinking about it. “Fred Anderson. That was the name of the kid I killed the night of the party. He saw me performing magic and freaked out. Pulled a gun on me. Don’t even know where he got it. I could have taken the gun from him with magic, performed a powerful spell to alter his memories, but it’d take too long. I knew the other sons would be there soon. I panicked, killed him with a flick of my wrist, then turned him into a darkling and sent him after the others.”

“You were willing to kill the young girl. The one you sent to the hospital with prophylactic shock from your spider familiars.”

He took a while to respond. “Yes,” he said after a small eternity. “I’d already killed an innocent teenager and my foster parents. Didn’t see how it mattered anymore if another person died.”

You sighed deeply, almost regretting having asked.

“You don’t believe me,” Chase said softly, resignedly.

You finally turned your head to look at him. Two grey-blue eyes stared up at you warily. “I do,” you said with a melancholy smile. He looked surprised. “I’m afraid I’ve been duplicitous. I can make you feel what I feel when I use my powers at any time without a crystal, so long as there’s physical contact.” He looked confused and even warier than before, but didn’t move and waited for you to explain further. “This crystal is so that I can get a read on your thoughts and feelings. I can’t read your mind, per say, but I can more or less understand your intent.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “What am I feeling right now?” he asked, not yet convinced.

You paused for a second and focused on the crystal, then smirked. “Admiration?” you asked, a little confused.

His expression relaxed slightly and he smirked back. “It was sneaky. I can respect that. Well played, (Y/N).” You paused and frowned, which made him frown, too. “What?” he asked apprehensively.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me by my name,” you said. Upon thinking about it further you could confirm that yes, that was the first time you’d heard your name uttered by Chase.

He frowned, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile threatening to curve his lips up at any second. “Don’t get used to it, Hedge Witch.”

You rolled your eyes and finally let go of his hand, carefully catching the purple crystal before it fell to the ground and shattered. “We need to get going. Imelda’s probably paced a groove into the floors by now and I want to get back before it gets dark.”

“Afraid of the dark?” he asked playfully, leaning back on his palms.

You nodded. “Yup.”

He actually laughed at that and you forced yourself to not think about how much you liked that sound. “Why on earth are you afraid of the dark?”

You reluctantly shifted away from his warmth and began blowing the candles out one by one, letting them cool while you gathered up your other things. You turned to look at him and leveled a serious stare at him. “Because I know what lives in the dark.”

* * *

By the time you got home you were a few thousand dollars richer and dead on your feet. So tired, in fact, that when Chase offered you a piggyback ride into the house you accepted without thinking. You didn’t even move to get your bag from the back seat.

“Hey, wake up,” Chase said quietly, jostling you ever so slightly. “I can’t open your door,” he explained when you stared blearily at him with a single eye. You groaned and reached sleepily for the door knob. He had to crouch a little bit so you could reach, but a second later it was open and he was carrying you into your messy room. You were so tired you didn’t even care that he was inside your sanctuary… or that it was a complete mess with reagents, books, and other supplies everywhere. He carefully pulled back the blankets on your bed then lowered you down a little clumsily on your bed, but you didn’t care. You were on a cloud. You sat still only long enough for Chase to pull your shoes off, then you were burrowing under the blankets, which Chase dutifully tucked around you. 

“Goodnight, Hedge Witch,” he said without the venom you’d grown so accustomed to.

“Goodnight, Chase,” you muttered sleepily, well on your way to blissful oblivion.

You didn’t see the way he stared at you for a few moments more, gaze lingering at your sleep-slack, peaceful face. You didn’t see the small, tentative smile that curled the corners of his lips up ever so slightly.

 

When you woke up, the door to your room was open and it took you a second to remember why.

Chase had carried you to bed last night, treated you gently, then left. You’d let him into your room without thinking about it.

You didn’t want to think about the implications of all of that.

Instead, you rolled out of bed and meandered to the kitchen, surprised and pleased to find your things had at least survived into the morning. You started a pot of coffee for the first time in three months and sighed dreamily as the smell began filling the kitchen. 

Satisfied, you turned your attention to your guest which you hadn’t heard or seen since you woke up. “Chase?” you called out tentatively, just loud enough to be heard throughout the entire house.

When you didn’t get a response you sighed and tried not to let the worry eat at you. He was likely just taking a walk again, and-

Something outside caught your eye and you looked a little more closely at it through your kitchen window.

There, bathed in the light of the morning sun, was Chase, swimming in the lake at the other side of your property. You technically owned the land around the lake and the lake itself, but that didn’t stop you from sometimes having to chase local kids away. If it was especially hot out, though, you tended to leave them be, and asked the merperson living in the bottom of the lake to keep an eye on them (you didn’t feel like going to jail because a couple of dumb kids drowned on your property).

You stared at him for a little while longer, watching him cut through the water with ease. A headline of an article flashed in your mind, reminding you that he was a swimmer. A good one, at that. Judging from the way he was moving it hadn’t been his powers that made him so good.

Struck by inspiration, you turned and went back to your room. It took you a hot minute to find what you were looking for, but about five minutes later you pulled a round light blue crystal attached to a silver chain from the depths of your desk with a triumphant “Aha!” You shoved it in your pocket and poured yourself a cup of coffee before slipping on a pair of sandals and heading down to the water’s edge.

The dock wasn’t exactly large and, even after you’d sat down and dipped your toes in the water, it took Chase a few minutes to notice he had an audience.

When he did he paused his laps and looked up at you, confused and treading water before he swam over to you.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, equally joking as accusatory as he slapped a broad hand onto the dock to keep himself afloat without having to work.

“Yup,” you answered playfully, taking special care to pop the p.

He rolled his eyes but you didn’t miss the way he seemed to puff his chest out the tiniest bit, a little pleased.

“You talked to Vasehny yet?” you asked, trying your best to keep your eyes on his face and not his bare chest.

“Who?” he asked, confused.

“The merperson at the bottom of the lake,” you said, then took a sip of your coffee.

Chase rolled his eyes. “Merpeople don’t exist,” he said dismissively.

You smiled widely. “Of course they do.”

“No, they don’t,” he argued.

Instead of continuing this fight (which was going nowhere) you pulled the necklace out of your pocket and held it out to him.

“What is it?” he asked warily, staring at it as though it was a snake about to strike.

“Water-breathing amulet. When it’s on you can breathe in water like you’d breathe air. Very helpful for whenever I have to talk to Vasehny. Their vocal cords don’t do so well above water.”

“Bullshit,” he said, still not taking the amulet.

You rolled your eyes and stripped down to your shirt and shorts, leaving your coffee, jacket, and sandals on the dock. You slipped the necklace over your head and, without any warning, cannonballed directly next to him. You stayed close to the surface and pointedly expelled all the air in your lungs before taking a deep breath of water. It was always an uncomfortable feeling at first, but you’d long grown accustomed to it. He submerged himself in the water and stared at you with wide, open eyes. He looked at the necklace, which glowed faintly once it was submerged, then at you, with your open, smiling mouth.

_“Told you,”_ you mouthed before taking in a deep, full breath of water.

Chase flipped you off then pointed up at the surface. Taking the hint you swam up and sputtered as your lungs expelled the water. Satisfied you wouldn’t drown the moment you took the necklace off, you pulled yourself up onto the dock and slipped the necklace from around your neck.

You coughed as your lungs protested the barely-there presence of water and you held the necklace out to Chase, who finally took it from you. “First breath of water after putting it on and first breath of air after taking it off is the worst part. Make sure your lungs are at least mostly clear of water before you take it off again, or you’ll drown on land if you take if off and don’t put it back on immediately.

He eyed you worriedly but put it on anyway now that you’d proved it wouldn’t drag him down to the bottom of the lake or something.

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly, as though the word tasted foreign in his mouth.

You smiled broadly at him again. “You’re welcome.”

With one last unsure glance at you he turned away and immediately submerged himself in the water. He stayed close to the dock as he expelled the air from his lungs. You saw him flail uncomfortably for a second or two until his body realized he wasn’t dying. He turned to look at you, his bright blue-grey eyes barely visible thanks to the distortion of the water, and then he was gone in a flash, deep beneath the surface.

You smiled. “I’m never going to see him again,” you mused.

You sat on the dock and enjoyed the quiet of the morning. Occasionally Chase would come close enough to the surface that you could see him, but mostly he stayed hidden in the depths. Once he did a truly impressive flip that you cheered for, even if you were pretty sure he couldn’t hear it.

Eventually, the water next to the dock moved and you looked over, surprised to see Vasehny staring at you, eyes and mouth the only things above the water.

You saw his webbed hand go up and tap at the spot the necklace would normally rest on you, then point at the center of the lake. A single scaled brow was raised in question and you smiled at him. “That’s Chase. He didn’t steal it from me. I let him borrow it. He likes swimming. Have you said hello yet?” you asked the merperson. You could just barely see his silvery tail swishing slowly side to side below him.

He shook his head, though he seemed pleased that you hadn’t been robbed or something.

“Well, don’t be afraid to. He seemed quite convinced merpeople don’t exist and it’d mean the world to me if I could tell him ‘I told you so’,” you said playfully.

That got Vasehny to smile and he nodded quickly before disappearing back into the lake, barely even disturbing the surface of the water.

Ten minutes later Chase broke the surface of the water and turned in a circle until he spotted you, then made a beeline for you. You smirked and fought the urge to laugh at the wide-eyed, surprised look you could see even from a hundred feet (30 meters) away.

He slammed a hand on top of the dock and opened his mouth to talk to you, but instead all that came out was a torrent of water and “Abllrlllgaarrghhllgggrrggggllrrbbblr.”

It was a monumental effort to keep a straight face as you said, “Sorry, can you run that by me one more time?” You lost the valiant fight against the urge to not laugh and dissolved into giggles. You heard Chase coughing out the worst of the water and by the time he was done retching you had a stitch in your side from laughing so hard.

_“Ahem,”_ Chase said testily.

You wiped the tears away from your eyes and straightened up, looking at him a little guiltily. “Yeeeees?” you asked, nearly dissolving into laughter again at the look on his face.

Chase glared at you, but then he seemed to remember what he’d come to talk to you about and he suddenly looked excited again. “You weren’t lying,” he said hoarsely in lieu of telling you point blank that you were right.

“I’m aware,” you said, biting back a smirk.

“Merpeople are real,” he said unnecessarily, as though saying it would make the fact even more realistic.

“Yes, they are,” you said with a mild smile.

“He talked to me. In English.” He paused and then looked at you, confused. “How does a merperson know English?”

“I taught him. He taught me Gabhli, their native tongue, in return… he also knows Spanish, but I have no idea where or how he learned it.”

“The merperson knows Spanish…” Chase said dreamily. It was clear he was having trouble wrapping his head around all of this.

“Did you have a nice swim?” you asked, pulling him from his tempestuous thoughts.

He nodded and thumbed absently at the amulet, which was still around his neck. “Can… can I keep it?” he asked, eyes darting nervously away from you.

You nodded, though, and his eyes flicked back to you, shoulders slumped ever so slightly in relief. “It’s almost noon, though. Think you can call it quits for the day? The lake isn’t going anywhere, I promise. It’ll be here tomorrow, too,” you said playfully.

He frowned and ran a hand through his sopping wet hair, which plastered itself to the top of his head. “Why, you have a job today or something?”

You shook your head. “No, but you’ve been swimming nonstop for four hours. You’re probably more tired than you realize. Not to mention hungry.”

“I’m fine,” he said dismissively with a wave of his other hand.

“Alright, prove it to me. Pull yourself up onto the dock,” you said evenly, gesturing to the space next to you.

He scoffed and put both hands on the top of the dock.

He made it about one foot out of the water before his arms shook, gave out, and he plummeted back down into the water. You flinched away as he surfaced and sputtered water everywhere.

He stayed there for a second, disbelief etched on his face, before he glared up at you.

“Would you like some-”

_“No,”_ he said vehemently then began skirting around the dock, using one hand to keep himself afloat, anchored to the dock. You grabbed your jacket, empty mug, and slipped your sandals back on and followed along next to him as he made his way slowly to shore. He barely made it onto the shore without tripping in the muck and you waited patiently as he took a moment to collect himself. You definitely did not stare at his dripping wet back or his ass, which his swim trunks clung to like velcro.

He finished coughing up the water in his lungs and slipped the necklace off, which only renewed his coughing for another ten or so seconds.

You grabbed the towel he’d left at the start of the dock and handed it to him wordlessly. He took it with a grateful sigh and ran it through his hair, then let it fall to around his shoulders.

“I’ll make lunch. How do tacos sound?” you asked.

His response was a weak thumbs up.

“If you pass out on the shore I’ll never let you live it down,” you teased as you walked back to the house.

“Shut up,” he said, though the effect was somewhat hampered by how tired he sounded. A second later you heard the sound of rocks shifting beneath his feet and you smiled.

“Don’t drip on the carpet and take a shower so you don’t smell like lake all day,” you ordered good-naturedly (though you were dead serious about dripping lake water on your carpet).

“Yeah, yeah,” he panted dismissively.

You left the door open for him once you got to the house and immediately set to work on preparing everything you’d need for tacos. You refused to check if he left a trail of water on your carpet and smiled a little when you heard the shower in his bathroom turn on.

The shower turned off only about fifteen minutes after it turned on but it was an entire hour before Chase finally made it back downstairs. He made it as far as the couch in the living room before he collapsed face-down in an ungainly heap on the lumpy cushions.

“That bad, eh?” you asked, smirking at him from the doorway.

An unintelligible groan was the only response you got.

“Tortillas should be done in about fifteen minutes. Think you can get yourself up by then?” you asked The Lump Formerly Known As Chase.

That got him to lift his head and look over at you, shocked. “You _made_ tortillas?” he asked incredulously.

You shrugged. “We didn’t have any.”

Chase stared at you for a second longer before he buried his face back into the armrest of the couch and muttered something you had no hope of understanding.

“What was that?” you asked, thoroughly amused.

“Nothing,” he said loudly and clearly enough for you to hear.

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you were smiling. “Uh huh. Don’t fall asleep, alright? We’re eating the second the tortillas are done.”

Another garbled response, but you merely chuckled and moved back into the kitchen. Maybe if he wore himself out like this every day you wouldn’t have to fix your house again or drag him along like a naughty child to your jobs.

Once he had some food he looked considerably more alive. In fact, he made somewhat unholy noises that nearly had your face getting hot as he devoured four massive tacos. You’d ended up eating on the couch. Chase couldn’t be bothered to move and you’d taken pity on him and made the tacos to his exacting specifications.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but at some point you found your shoulders touching as you finished your meal and relaxed into the back of the couch, watching whatever movie Chase had put on earlier (”Need to catch up on six years worth of movies!” he’d told you when you’d raised an eyebrow at his selection). Neither of you looked at each other, but your heart was beating loudly in your ears, making it hard to think. Without his powers he didn’t stink. In fact, all he smelled like now was the strawberry shampoo you knew he loved, even if he’d never admit it to you. This close it was almost overwhelming, but in a pleasant, heady way.

Suddenly, your wits came rushing back to you. He was a Son of Ipswich. A magic addict. All of this could be an act, even if what he’d told you about his past earlier hadn’t been. What if he was acting kind and personable so you’d trust him and give him his powers back? You’d tricked him into sealing his own powers away and, no matter how you postured, you knew you’d be in trouble if he got them back and decided to attack you. He almost definitely would, too. Magic addiction was stronger than even the most addictive drug and it was a miracle he’d improved this much in three months, even with you there to help him (even if he had no idea what you did every day to make the cravings and withdrawal easier).

It had to be an act.

As nonchalantly as you could you stood and grabbed the empty plates from lunch and put them in the sink, not seeing the way Chase watched your back silently. When you sat back down you sat as far away as the couch allowed and glued your eyes to the screen, not noticing his cold, disappointed glances or the way his jaw worked as he fought to keep hold of his emotions.

When you awoke the next day to the sound of glass breaking you groaned and had half a mind to roll back over and try to fall asleep, but it was no use. He was making a racket again.

You quite literally rolled out of bed, landing on the floor in an ungainly heap before you managed to pull yourself upright and onto your feet. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as the sound of your windows shattering (your living room windows, if you weren’t mistaken. You’d gotten to know the sound a bit too well at this point) echoed through the halls. You fumbled for the door handle and eventually got it open and started stumbling towards the living room, only remembering at the last second to tug on the closest pair of mostly-clean floor jeans.

Chase was indeed wrecking your living room again and you let out a long sigh. So the last two days had been good ones, but you knew recovering wasn’t a linear thing. People had good days and bad days and amazing days and horrible days. With enough support they generally trended upwards, but Chase would probably always have some bad days.

You watched from the doorway as he did a startlingly accurate impression of a bull in an antique shop. You watched as he smashed your little clock for the umpteenth time, gears and glass going everywhere. He wasn’t wearing any shoes again and you knew you’d spend tonight removing glass and closing the cuts while he slept.

After a few minutes of watching silently he finally seemed to notice you staring. He zeroed in on you instantly and marched up to you with as much menace as he had the first day.

“Why are you doing this?” he spat, glaring down at you.

“You’ll have to be more specific, Chase,” you said evenly.

His face contorted with rage and he threw his hands up in frustration. “Helping me! Why are you helping me?! You know what I did! What I am! What I’m capable of! What I would have done to you the moment I got out of the In Between if you hadn’t warded yourself!” he yelled, just a bit too loudly for how close you were.

His words gave you pause. This wasn’t the usual argument. Usually it was only about his powers; The usual addict reasoning, bargaining, and eventual rage when the first two didn’t work. There was something vulnerable simmering just below the surface and that was what caught your attention.

You tilted your head as you studied his expression, your interest only growing when he looked away with a curse. “Because helping lost and hurt things is what Hedge Witches do,” you answered fairly, even if your help for Chase extended far beyond what any other Hedge Witch would have done for him.

His face went from furious to stone cold in an instant. “So that’s all I am? A lost, broken thing you’ll put back together, then send on its way because it’s your job?” His tone was detached but not completely emotionless.

You paused again, assessing him carefully. Perhaps you’d been hasty with your words. He was unstable and the last thing you wanted was for him to go on a killing spree if you weren’t careful. You tried again. “I wouldn’t do this for the other Sons. I believe you were dealt a very unfair hand in life and if there’s something that I can do to help you, then-”

“Bullshit,” he hissed for what must have been the hundredth time since you’d met him.

You froze mid-sentence and looked at him, confused. “Excuse me?” you asked as politely as you could manage.

He closed the small distance between you and you tensed, but he moved his hand in such a telegraphed way that you let him past your wards, though you remained wary and ready to act. His hand cupped your cheek gently and he let out a breath as though he expected to be sent flying the second he touched you.

“I said that’s bullshit, (Y/N). I know how you look at me when you think I’m not looking. I know there’s more to your kindness than your supposed obligation,” he whispered as his thumb stroked your cheek gently.

Your heart was beating hard in your chest but you shook your head slowly. “You’re wrong,” you murmured, though your voice broke halfway through.

Chase shook his head slowly, jaw set stubbornly. “No, I’m not.”

[Originally posted by sigurism](http://tmblr.co/ZRnm7u2Llt57M)

Then he was leaning forward slowly enough that it wasn’t threatening, but too quickly for you to move away.

Or maybe you didn’t want to.

And then his lips were on yours and your mind went blissfully blank. His tongue licked the seam of your lips and you opened your mouth to him without thinking about it, moaning softly as his tongue greedily explored your mouth. Your fingers found their way to his hair where they tangled themselves and his arms went around you, pulling you against his chest. He felt warm and solid against you and you melted into his arms, losing yourself in the feelings of his lips on yours.

You let out a small gasp of surprise and pleasure as his lips began working a path down your neck.

“So pretty, Baby,” he whispered reverently between kisses.

“Chase…” you breathed, eyes closed with pleasure.

Your eyes opened suddenly, wide and alert. Chase. Chase Goodwin-Pope-Collins. Son of Ipswich. Murderer. Addict. Manipulator.

Your wards activated all at once and sent chase flying backwards away from you. He hit the wall with a heavy thud, head cracking dangerously against the plaster. You breathed heavily for a moment, trying to reign in your feelings and runaway heart.

He blinked blearily up at you and you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a concussion from that hit. “Why?” he croaked, mind swimming from the head trauma.

You stalked over to him and, with a careless wave of your hand, healed the concussion. He blinked slowly then looked up at you more clearly than before, but you spoke before he could. “Do not play with my emotions, Warlock. I’m not some sniveling schoolgirl you can manipulate. Trying to seduce me won’t get you your powers back. It will do nothing but earn my ire. If you try such a tactic again I’ll knock you out and leave you stranded in a different country. Or, better yet, a jail cell. Never take advantage of my kindness again,” you spat, face inches from his.

His eyes were wide and, you thought bitterly, convincingly hurt.

Satisfied you’d made your point you turned on your heel and began to stalk away, but froze at the sound of his voice.

“Wait. Please, (Y/N), wait,” he begged.

You took a deep breath and turned to rip him a new one, but froze at what you saw in his outstretched hand.

A purple crystal.

“If you won’t believe my words, at least believe your own magic,” he said quietly, blue-grey eyes pleading.

You stared down at him for a moment as his meaning sunk in. Your heart began beating loudly in your chest again, unbidden. “Where did you get that?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

He looked a little guilty. “You never put it back in your room after Imelda’s. I put your bag back in your room, but… but I kept this crystal.”

“Why?” you hissed, suddenly wary again.

He shifted and stood a little shakily. “Because… Because I was afraid of what you’d feel if you used it on me again,” he admitted quietly. He stared down at the crystal, gripping it once tightly before he relaxed his hand and held it out for you. His blue eyes met yours and you swore you stopped breathing for a second at the emotion there. “But if this is the only way you’ll believe me… then I can’t be afraid anymore.”

You stared at him for a moment, looking for any sign of deception or weakness. Finding none, you slowly reached out and clasped hands with him, purple crystal trapped between your hands.

The first thing you did was check to make sure he hadn’t somehow tampered with it, but it was as clean as it had been the day you’d used it at Imelda’s. You focused more intently on it and stared him dead in the eyes.

The moment you met his eyes a nearly overwhelming wave of adoration rolled from him to you through the crystal. Love. Admiration. Respect. Lust. Joy. They rolled over you like waves crashing into the beach, so genuine and naked that you had to blink back tears. Underneath all those bright emotions was Fear, Trepidation, Dread. He was scared of these feelings. Of losing you. Of not being good enough in your eyes.

Of you not loving him back.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered, reaching up slowly, hesitating for only a split second before he gently wiped your tears away with his thumb.

“I love you, too,” you croaked, a little shocked at the truth in your own words. You hadn’t even managed to admit it to yourself before now.

He froze and looked at you as though you’d grown a second head.

You smiled, though it was more of a grimace. “Don’t be so surprised, asshole. I watched you struggle every day. I was watching closely enough to know how much it was tearing you apart. The things you did. Who you were with who you became with who you are now. I knew for sure once you told me what happened in your past while we were at Imelda’s. Suddenly I knew why I let you destroy my damn house every day,” you snuffled.

“In my defense, you can repair it like it never happened,” he said, though he ducked his head guiltily at the flat you look you gave him.

You stared at him sadly. “I can’t give you your powers back. This won’t change that.” You had to tell him that up front. It was only fair.

His lip quirked up at the corner, but it was more of a grimace. “I know.”

You returned the sad smile and leaned your face into his hand, relishing the way it felt against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured reverently, blunt, short nails scratching deliciously against your scalp.

You blinked up at him, then frowned. He looked apprehensive, but you smiled reassuringly at him. “One second…” you muttered, focusing on the crystal in your hands. You were still being overwhelmed by his emotions for you, but he had no idea how you really felt about him.

It took a few seconds, but a moment later he gasped as you reversed the flow in the crystal. Now your emotions poured into him and when he looked back at you his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them.

“Oh, Baby…” he whispered brokenly.

A second later you were being swept up in his arms, crystal dropping to the ground, forgotten. It had served its purpose valiantly, but now there were other things to do.

Your lips crashed against his and he was kissing you back fervently, occasionally bumping into a wall or doorway. He did manage to get the two of you to your room eventually, and broke the kiss long enough to murmur, “Door,” before his lips were back on your neck.

“Just open it,” you gasped as he sucked a bruise into the column of your throat.

He didn’t hesitate to reach behind you and yank the door open, even if he had been zapped by the doorknob fifty times before. You used your advantageous position to grind your hips against his, drawing a filthy moan from his throat. He nearly tripped over one of your books then actually tripped over a stray cauldron. Luckily you were close enough to the bed at that point that you landed harmlessly on the springy softness, though you let out a squeak of surprise anyway.

Chase grinned down at you and you felt embarrassed heat rush to your cheeks.

“That was adorable,” he crooned, placing gentle kisses to your neck as he used one of his hands to rearrange you further onto the bed. He followed after you, mouth not leaving your skin for even a second. You’d have bruises for days thanks to those sinful lips.

He played your body like an instrument but you found yourself missing his lips. Wordlessly, you tugged clumsily at his shirt a few times before he seemed to get the message and crawled back up the bed until he was hovering above you. Not wanting to wait you leaned up and wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging him down on top of you while you kissed him hard and messily. His hands didn’t remain idle, working their way under your shirt and up your sides. His touch was so light and teasing that goosebumps rose to your skin and you shivered against him. You could feel him smirk against your lips at that, but any retort you could conjure up was promptly dashed from your mind as he palmed gently over your bra, lingering ever so slightly on your hardening nipples.

You gasped against his lips and arched into his touch. “It’s in the way,” he complained, tugging at the fabric of your shirt between careful, teasing touches that had your body hot and needy for more.

“Then take it off,” you whispered, already setting to work on the buttons of his shirt. The second your shirt was up and over your head he was kissing you again, all tongue and teeth as he yanked his now-unbuttoned shirt off and threw it on the floor where it joined yours in a rapidly increasing pile.

The next thing to join the shirts was your bra, which you barely noticed Chase undoing with deft fingers, as your own attention was focused on exploring every inch of his exposed chest that you hadn’t allowed yourself to stare at too long the last time you saw it. He was lean, with dense muscle just below the surface that you could feel every time he shifted above you.

His knee came up and parted your legs and you let him, immediately wrapping your legs around him and groaning as he took advantage of the position to grind, dirty and slow, against you.

“You make the prettiest noises, Baby,” he whispered into your ear after a particularly surprised, loud gasp. He took your earlobe between his teeth and bit gently, but even that glorious sensation couldn’t hide the way one of his hands was quickly undoing the button on your pants, zipper following a second later.

When his hand slipped below your underwear and his middle finger ran through your folds you actually stopped breathing for a second. Chase was watching you with rapt attention, his steel blue eyes so intense that you had to fight the urge to look away.

“Chase…” you breathed, tone almost shamelessly pleading.

But that only caused Chase to smile and remove his hand. You were about to protest but a second later he was gently but firmly unwrapping your legs from around his waist and shimmying your pants down your legs, placing soft kisses and nips to the tender, inner parts of your thighs as he went. Your jeans joined the other clothing on the floor with an audible fwump and you half expected Chase to come back up and start kissing you again, but he surprised you by looking up at you with lust-blown eyes and placing light, fleeting kisses to your hip.

Suddenly all you could focus on was the way his hands moved on your skin, the hot puffs of breath as his lips traveled downwards. He hooked a finger into the side of your underwear, dragging them down at a tortuously slow pace. His eyes didn’t leave you the entire time and you had half a mind to just rip your own damn underwear off, but, as it turned out, it was worth the wait. You didn’t even have any idea where your underwear landed because the second they were off of you his face was between your legs, licking a long stripe up your folds that had you keening.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to obscure the obscene sounds coming from your lips. Chase was having none of it, though, and immediately lifted his head ever so slightly. “I wanna hear you, beautiful,” he said, sounding as wrecked as he looked. “You taste so good and I wanna hear how I make you feel. Please,” he said quietly, though you had a feeling he wouldn’t continue until you removed your hand.

It was an easy choice.

The second your hand went down and tangled itself in his short brown locks he returned to what he’d been doing. His tongue danced lightly around your clit until you were a panting mess before it slid down, slick and hot, to spear into your soaking cunt. You gasped as he flicked his tongue relentlessly into you over and over again, and when he slipped a finger into your sopping entrance and moved his mouth to suck ever so perfectly at your abused clit you came without any warning. Your hips bucked and ground against his face but Chase didn’t even flinch, enthusiastically licking and finger-fucking you through your sudden orgasm. It went on for longer than you thought possible until you were reduced to a babbling, gasping mess under Chase’s expert mouth. Just as it was getting to be too much he relented, looking like sin as he licked devilishly at his lips.

“Think you can do another round?” he murmured, kissing his way back up your stomach and to your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips and that, more than anything, made heat rush back to your face again.

You tried your best to give him a pouty glare, and you must have been successful because he was smiling down at you with barely-contained lust. “Don’t you dare stop now,” you muttered, yanking him down for another kiss.

His hands left your sensitive skin to hastily peel his skin-tight jeans off, boxers tugged off in the same smooth motion. Then he was back, looming over you with pupils blown so wide with lust that they nearly appeared black.

“Condoms?” he murmured, delaying your answer slightly by leaning down to kiss you deeply, making you moan as he slipped his tongue on your mouth.

When he finally relented, you smirked up at him. “I’m a witch, Chase. If I couldn’t prevent pregnancy or prevent and cure diseases, I’d suck at my job,” you whispered, trying your best to reach every inch of his skin that you could.

He groaned low in his throat when you reached behind him and gave the globes of his ass an appreciative squeeze.

With nothing holding him back, he wasted no time in lining himself up with your sopping entrance, a nearly pained groan leaving his lips between your kisses as he teased your entrance with his tip.

You broke the messy, fevered kiss long enough to stare up at him with lust-glazed eyes and murmur, “Please, Chase. Fuck, I need you.”

“Fuck, Baby,” he groaned reverently, giving both of you only a moment to prepare yourselves before his hips were gliding forwards, shoving inch after pussy-stretching, delicious inch into you.

Your breath was nearly punched out of your lungs as the all-encompassing feeling of being full overtook all other sensations. With what was likely the last of his self-control, Chase stayed still, well-defined hips flush against you. An experimental roll of his hips against you had you both cursing and gasping.

“Chase, god, fuck me,” you gasped. Your eager cunt was clutching tightly against his length and that, along with your words, pulled a growl-like sound from the depths of Chase’s chest. A second later his hips were drawing back until just his head was inside before he thrust forward all at once. The sound of flesh against flesh rang out lewdly in the space of your bedroom along with the unabashed moan torn from your throat at the movement.

Chase’s lips travelled over your exposed skin as he set a fast pace, seemingly unable to take it slow now that you were finally together. Every moan that spilled from your lips spurred him onwards, eager to pleasure you while also chasing after his own end.

Your skin felt hot, almost uncomfortably so, as Chase’s mouth attached itself to one of your nipples and began licking and sucking in a way that had you arching into the touch, hands clawing at his sides, needing relief and more at the same time.

“Taste so good,” he purred reverently, voice strained from putting so much energy into fucking you.

His hips slammed into yours with nearly a bruising force and you began to lose time, not sure how long you’ve been under the man bringing you so much pleasure. The slick slide of his cock in and out of you and his wicked tongue working away at your nipples were all you could focus on. After some time, though, you could feel all the heat in your body begin to head south, your impending orgasm coiling low in your belly.

“Chase. Chase, I’m-” you moaned out, trying to give him a warning. Your legs circled his waist, urging him deeper with each thrust, spread all the wider when he fully sheathed himself in your wet heat.

“Me too, (Y/N). God, you feel so good,” he managed to gasp out before his lips were on yours. His pace became more erratic as his orgasm approached. Without warning, his hand reached between your writhing bodies and rubbed expertly at your clit, throwing you over the edge into a mind blowing, body-wrecking orgasm.

“Of fuck, Chase! Yes. _Yesyesyesyes_ ,” you babbled as white-hot pleasure rolled through your body in a wave. He fucked you through your climax, brow furrowed with pleasure and concentration as he slammed into you again and again. The feeling of your pussy clenching around him finally triggered his own orgasm and with a shuttered cry of your name you felt his cock twitch deep inside of you.

“‘M coming, Baby. Gonna come in you. Fuck, (Y/N),” he groaned.

Once, twice, and on the third thrust he buried himself deep inside of you, cock head nearly brushing your cervix as he emptied himself in your welcoming walls.

The thought of him coming so deep inside of you nearly set you off again, but you were too tired and blissfully-fucked out to try and come again.

Chase all but collapsed on top of you, narrowly avoiding crushing you under his broad chest. His arms wrapped around you and you shivered at the feeling of his cock still inside of you.

“Heavy,” you breathed even as you nosed at his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Sorry, I can-” he rumbled, voice syrupy and deep from his post-orgasmic haze, as he moved to get off of you, but you held him in place with your arms and legs.

“Don’t,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss to his skin. His skin was salty from sweat and you licked a thick stripe up his neck, drawing a satisfied sigh from him. You let him feel your power as you gathered it and focused on a simple hover spell.

He gasped as the two of you rose a foot off the bed and turned slowly in the air. By the time you were back on the bed Chase was underneath you and you were lying lazily on top of him, head pillowed on his shoulder.

“Like warming my cock that much, huh?” he jabbed playfully, fondness seeping into his voice.

You swatted his head, not quite hard enough to hurt, and he chuckled for a few beats before quieting.

“Can’t get over how good it feels,” Chase murmured as he placed a light kiss to your hair.

“Mm?” you hummed sleepily, tilting your head up so you could look at him.

He smiled down at you and ran his fingers through your hair. “You,” he winked suggestively.

You were about to tell him off for the terrible line but he shifted just enough that you could feel his softening cock inside of you, drawing a surprised gasp from your lips.

He smirked knowingly and stilled. His fingers traced nonsensical patterns into your skin with a featherlight touch that had goosebumps breaking out all over. “Your magic, too. Feels so good,” he admitted softly.

You squeezed his arm gently as your mind drifted. Was it possible for a Son of Ipswich to learn your craft? Even with all you knew, you couldn’t be sure. Chances were no Son had ever tried. Maybe…

No, those were thoughts for another day. Your brain was still struggling to function as it was.

You let out a long sigh and relaxed into Chase’s arms, breath catching ever so slightly as he moved, dragging one of the blankets that had been shoved aside over both of you.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he murmured, though he already sounded nearly asleep.

You grinned and placed a lingering kiss to his chest before murmuring a “Goodnight, Chase,” and falling asleep immediately after.

 

* * *

 

When you woke up, the door to your room was open and it took you a second to remember why.

Chase had carried you to bed last night, treated you gently, then left. You’d let him into your room without thinking about it.

You didn’t want to think about the implications of all of that.

Instead, you rolled out of bed and meandered to the kitchen, surprised and pleased to find your things had at least survived into the morning. You started a pot of coffee for the first time in three months and sighed dreamily as the smell began filling the kitchen. 

Satisfied, you turned your attention to your guest which you hadn’t heard or seen since you woke up. “Chase?” you called out tentatively, just loud enough to be heard throughout the entire house.

When you didn’t get a response you sighed and tried not to let the worry eat at you. He was likely just taking a walk again, and-

Something outside caught your eye and you looked a little more closely at it through your kitchen window.

There, bathed in the light of the morning sun, was Chase, swimming in the lake at the other side of your property. You technically owned the land around the lake and the lake itself, but that didn’t stop you from sometimes having to chase local kids away. If it was especially hot out, though, you tended to leave them be, and asked the merperson living in the bottom of the lake to keep an eye on them (you didn’t feel like going to jail because a couple of dumb kids drowned on your property).

You stared at him for a little while longer, watching him cut through the water with ease. A headline of an article flashed in your mind, reminding you that he was a swimmer. A good one, at that. Judging from the way he was moving it hadn’t been his powers that made him so good.

Struck by inspiration, you turned and went back to your room. It took you a hot minute to find what you were looking for, but about five minutes later you pulled a round light blue crystal attached to a silver chain from the depths of your desk with a triumphant “Aha!” You shoved it in your pocket and poured yourself a cup of coffee before slipping on a pair of sandals and heading down to the water’s edge.

The dock wasn’t exactly large and, even after you’d sat down and dipped your toes in the water, it took Chase a few minutes to notice he had an audience.

When he did he paused his laps and looked up at you, confused and treading water before he swam over to you.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, equally joking as accusatory as he slapped a broad hand onto the dock to keep himself afloat without having to work.

“Yup,” you answered playfully, taking special care to pop the p.

He rolled his eyes but you didn’t miss the way he seemed to puff his chest out the tiniest bit, a little pleased.

“You talked to Vasehny yet?” you asked, trying your best to keep your eyes on his face and not his bare chest.

“Who?” he asked, confused.

“The merperson at the bottom of the lake,” you said, then took a sip of your coffee.

Chase rolled his eyes. “Merpeople don’t exist,” he said dismissively.

You smiled widely. “Of course they do.”

“No, they don’t,” he argued.

Instead of continuing this fight (which was going nowhere) you pulled the necklace out of your pocket and held it out to him.

“What is it?” he asked warily, staring at it as though it was a snake about to strike.

“Water-breathing amulet. When it’s on you can breathe in water like you’d breathe air. Very helpful for whenever I have to talk to Vasehny. Their vocal cords don’t do so well above water.”

“Bullshit,” he said, still not taking the amulet.

You rolled your eyes and stripped down to your shirt and shorts, leaving your coffee, jacket, and sandals on the dock. You slipped the necklace over your head and, without any warning, cannonballed directly next to him. You stayed close to the surface and pointedly expelled all the air in your lungs before taking a deep breath of water. It was always an uncomfortable feeling at first, but you’d long grown accustomed to it. He submerged himself in the water and stared at you with wide, open eyes. He looked at the necklace, which glowed faintly once it was submerged, then at you, with your open, smiling mouth.

_“Told you,”_ you mouthed before taking in a deep, full breath of water.

Chase flipped you off then pointed up at the surface. Taking the hint you swam up and sputtered as your lungs expelled the water. Satisfied you wouldn’t drown the moment you took the necklace off, you pulled yourself up onto the dock and slipped the necklace from around your neck.

You coughed as your lungs protested the barely-there presence of water and you held the necklace out to Chase, who finally took it from you. “First breath of water after putting it on and first breath of air after taking it off is the worst part. Make sure your lungs are at least mostly clear of water before you take it off again, or you’ll drown on land if you take if off and don’t put it back on immediately.

He eyed you worriedly but put it on anyway now that you’d proved it wouldn’t drag him down to the bottom of the lake or something.

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly, as though the word tasted foreign in his mouth.

You smiled broadly at him again. “You’re welcome.”

With one last unsure glance at you he turned away and immediately submerged himself in the water. He stayed close to the dock as he expelled the air from his lungs. You saw him flail uncomfortably for a second or two until his body realized he wasn’t dying. He turned to look at you, his bright blue-grey eyes barely visible thanks to the distortion of the water, and then he was gone in a flash, deep beneath the surface.

You smiled. “I’m never going to see him again,” you mused.

You sat on the dock and enjoyed the quiet of the morning. Occasionally Chase would come close enough to the surface that you could see him, but mostly he stayed hidden in the depths. Once he did a truly impressive flip that you cheered for, even if you were pretty sure he couldn’t hear it.

Eventually, the water next to the dock moved and you looked over, surprised to see Vasehny staring at you, eyes and mouth the only things above the water.

You saw his webbed hand go up and tap at the spot the necklace would normally rest on you, then point at the center of the lake. A single scaled brow was raised in question and you smiled at him. “That’s Chase. He didn’t steal it from me. I let him borrow it. He likes swimming. Have you said hello yet?” you asked the merperson. You could just barely see his silvery tail swishing slowly side to side below him.

He shook his head, though he seemed pleased that you hadn’t been robbed or something.

“Well, don’t be afraid to. He seemed quite convinced merpeople don’t exist and it’d mean the world to me if I could tell him ‘I told you so’,” you said playfully.

That got Vasehny to smile and he nodded quickly before disappearing back into the lake, barely even disturbing the surface of the water.

Ten minutes later Chase broke the surface of the water and turned in a circle until he spotted you, then made a beeline for you. You smirked and fought the urge to laugh at the wide-eyed, surprised look you could see even from a hundred feet (30 meters) away.

He slammed a hand on top of the dock and opened his mouth to talk to you, but instead all that came out was a torrent of water and “Abllrlllgaarrghhllgggrrggggllrrbbblr.”

It was a monumental effort to keep a straight face as you said, “Sorry, can you run that by me one more time?” You lost the valiant fight against the urge to not laugh and dissolved into giggles. You heard Chase coughing out the worst of the water and by the time he was done retching you had a stitch in your side from laughing so hard.

_“Ahem,”_ Chase said testily.

You wiped the tears away from your eyes and straightened up, looking at him a little guiltily. “Yeeeees?” you asked, nearly dissolving into laughter again at the look on his face.

Chase glared at you, but then he seemed to remember what he’d come to talk to you about and he suddenly looked excited again. “You weren’t lying,” he said hoarsely in lieu of telling you point blank that you were right.

“I’m aware,” you said, biting back a smirk.

“Merpeople are real,” he said unnecessarily, as though saying it would make the fact even more realistic.

“Yes, they are,” you said with a mild smile.

“He talked to me. In English.” He paused and then looked at you, confused. “How does a merperson know English?”

“I taught him. He taught me Gabhli, their native tongue, in return… he also knows Spanish, but I have no idea where or how he learned it.”

“The merperson knows Spanish…” Chase said dreamily. It was clear he was having trouble wrapping his head around all of this.

“Did you have a nice swim?” you asked, pulling him from his tempestuous thoughts.

He nodded and thumbed absently at the amulet, which was still around his neck. “Can… can I keep it?” he asked, eyes darting nervously away from you.

You nodded, though, and his eyes flicked back to you, shoulders slumped ever so slightly in relief. “It’s almost noon, though. Think you can call it quits for the day? The lake isn’t going anywhere, I promise. It’ll be here tomorrow, too,” you said playfully.

He frowned and ran a hand through his sopping wet hair, which plastered itself to the top of his head. “Why, you have a job today or something?”

You shook your head. “No, but you’ve been swimming nonstop for four hours. You’re probably more tired than you realize. Not to mention hungry.”

“I’m fine,” he said dismissively with a wave of his other hand.

“Alright, prove it to me. Pull yourself up onto the dock,” you said evenly, gesturing to the space next to you.

He scoffed and put both hands on the top of the dock.

He made it about one foot out of the water before his arms shook, gave out, and he plummeted back down into the water. You flinched away as he surfaced and sputtered water everywhere.

He stayed there for a second, disbelief etched on his face, before he glared up at you.

“Would you like some-”

_“No,”_ he said vehemently then began skirting around the dock, using one hand to keep himself afloat, anchored to the dock. You grabbed your jacket, empty mug, and slipped your sandals back on and followed along next to him as he made his way slowly to shore. He barely made it onto the shore without tripping in the muck and you waited patiently as he took a moment to collect himself. You definitely did not stare at his dripping wet back or his ass, which his swim trunks clung to like velcro.

He finished coughing up the water in his lungs and slipped the necklace off, which only renewed his coughing for another ten or so seconds.

You grabbed the towel he’d left at the start of the dock and handed it to him wordlessly. He took it with a grateful sigh and ran it through his hair, then let it fall to around his shoulders.

“I’ll make lunch. How do tacos sound?” you asked.

His response was a weak thumbs up.

“If you pass out on the shore I’ll never let you live it down,” you teased as you walked back to the house.

“Shut up,” he said, though the effect was somewhat hampered by how tired he sounded. A second later you heard the sound of rocks shifting beneath his feet and you smiled.

“Don’t drip on the carpet and take a shower so you don’t smell like lake all day,” you ordered good-naturedly (though you were dead serious about dripping lake water on your carpet).

“Yeah, yeah,” he panted dismissively.

You left the door open for him once you got to the house and immediately set to work on preparing everything you’d need for tacos. You refused to check if he left a trail of water on your carpet and smiled a little when you heard the shower in his bathroom turn on.

The shower turned off only about fifteen minutes after it turned on but it was an entire hour before Chase finally made it back downstairs. He made it as far as the couch in the living room before he collapsed face-down in an ungainly heap on the lumpy cushions.

“That bad, eh?” you asked, smirking at him from the doorway.

An unintelligible groan was the only response you got.

“Tortillas should be done in about fifteen minutes. Think you can get yourself up by then?” you asked The Lump Formerly Known As Chase.

That got him to lift his head and look over at you, shocked. “You _made_ tortillas?” he asked incredulously.

You shrugged. “We didn’t have any.”

Chase stared at you for a second longer before he buried his face back into the armrest of the couch and muttered something you had no hope of understanding.

“What was that?” you asked, thoroughly amused.

“Nothing,” he said loudly and clearly enough for you to hear.

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you were smiling. “Uh huh. Don’t fall asleep, alright? We’re eating the second the tortillas are done.”

Another garbled response, but you merely chuckled and moved back into the kitchen. Maybe if he wore himself out like this every day you wouldn’t have to fix your house again or drag him along like a naughty child to your jobs.

Once he had some food he looked considerably more alive. In fact, he made somewhat unholy noises that nearly had your face getting hot as he devoured four massive tacos. You’d ended up eating on the couch. Chase couldn’t be bothered to move and you’d taken pity on him and made the tacos to his exacting specifications.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but at some point you found your shoulders touching as you finished your meal and relaxed into the back of the couch, watching whatever movie Chase had put on earlier (”Need to catch up on six years worth of movies!” he’d told you when you’d raised an eyebrow at his selection). Neither of you looked at each other, but your heart was beating loudly in your ears, making it hard to think. Without his powers he didn’t stink. In fact, all he smelled like now was the strawberry shampoo you knew he loved, even if he’d never admit it to you. This close it was almost overwhelming, but in a pleasant, heady way.

Suddenly, your wits came rushing back to you. He was a Son of Ipswich. A magic addict. All of this could be an act, even if what he’d told you about his past earlier hadn’t been. What if he was acting kind and personable so you’d trust him and give him his powers back? You’d tricked him into sealing his own powers away and, no matter how you postured, you knew you’d be in trouble if he got them back and decided to attack you. He almost definitely would, too. Magic addiction was stronger than even the most addictive drug and it was a miracle he’d improved this much in three months, even with you there to help him (even if he had no idea what you did every day to make the cravings and withdrawal easier).

It had to be an act.

As nonchalantly as you could you stood and grabbed the empty plates from lunch and put them in the sink, not seeing the way Chase watched your back silently. When you sat back down you sat as far away as the couch allowed and glued your eyes to the screen, not noticing his cold, disappointed glances or the way his jaw worked as he fought to keep hold of his emotions.

When you awoke the next day to the sound of glass breaking you groaned and had half a mind to roll back over and try to fall asleep, but it was no use. He was making a racket again.

You quite literally rolled out of bed, landing on the floor in an ungainly heap before you managed to pull yourself upright and onto your feet. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as the sound of your windows shattering (your living room windows, if you weren’t mistaken. You’d gotten to know the sound a bit too well at this point) echoed through the halls. You fumbled for the door handle and eventually got it open and started stumbling towards the living room, only remembering at the last second to tug on the closest pair of mostly-clean floor jeans.

Chase was indeed wrecking your living room again and you let out a long sigh. So the last two days had been good ones, but you knew recovering wasn’t a linear thing. People had good days and bad days and amazing days and horrible days. With enough support they generally trended upwards, but Chase would probably always have some bad days.

You watched from the doorway as he did a startlingly accurate impression of a bull in an antique shop. You watched as he smashed your little clock for the umpteenth time, gears and glass going everywhere. He wasn’t wearing any shoes again and you knew you’d spend tonight removing glass and closing the cuts while he slept.

After a few minutes of watching silently he finally seemed to notice you staring. He zeroed in on you instantly and marched up to you with as much menace as he had the first day.

“Why are you doing this?” he spat, glaring down at you.

“You’ll have to be more specific, Chase,” you said evenly.

His face contorted with rage and he threw his hands up in frustration. “Helping me! Why are you helping me?! You know what I did! What I am! What I’m capable of! What I would have done to you the moment I got out of the In Between if you hadn’t warded yourself!” he yelled, just a bit too loudly for how close you were.

His words gave you pause. This wasn’t the usual argument. Usually it was only about his powers; The usual addict reasoning, bargaining, and eventual rage when the first two didn’t work. There was something vulnerable simmering just below the surface and that was what caught your attention.

You tilted your head as you studied his expression, your interest only growing when he looked away with a curse. “Because helping lost and hurt things is what Hedge Witches do,” you answered fairly, even if your help for Chase extended far beyond what any other Hedge Witch would have done for him.

His face went from furious to stone cold in an instant. “So that’s all I am? A lost, broken thing you’ll put back together, then send on its way because it’s your job?” His tone was detached but not completely emotionless.

You paused again, assessing him carefully. Perhaps you’d been hasty with your words. He was unstable and the last thing you wanted was for him to go on a killing spree if you weren’t careful. You tried again. “I wouldn’t do this for the other Sons. I believe you were dealt a very unfair hand in life and if there’s something that I can do to help you, then-”

“Bullshit,” he hissed for what must have been the hundredth time since you’d met him.

You froze mid-sentence and looked at him, confused. “Excuse me?” you asked as politely as you could manage.

He closed the small distance between you and you tensed, but he moved his hand in such a telegraphed way that you let him past your wards, though you remained wary and ready to act. His hand cupped your cheek gently and he let out a breath as though he expected to be sent flying the second he touched you.

“I said that’s bullshit, (Y/N). I know how you look at me when you think I’m not looking. I know there’s more to your kindness than your supposed obligation,” he whispered as his thumb stroked your cheek gently.

Your heart was beating hard in your chest but you shook your head slowly. “You’re wrong,” you murmured, though your voice broke halfway through.

Chase shook his head slowly, jaw set stubbornly. “No, I’m not.”

Then he was leaning forward slowly enough that it wasn’t threatening, but too quickly for you to move away.

Or maybe you didn’t want to.

And then his lips were on yours and your mind went blissfully blank. His tongue licked the seam of your lips and you opened your mouth to him without thinking about it, moaning softly as his tongue greedily explored your mouth. Your fingers found their way to his hair where they tangled themselves and his arms went around you, pulling you against his chest. He felt warm and solid against you and you melted into his arms, losing yourself in the feelings of his lips on yours.

You let out a small gasp of surprise and pleasure as his lips began working a path down your neck.

“So pretty, Baby,” he whispered reverently between kisses.

“Chase…” you breathed, eyes closed with pleasure.

Your eyes opened suddenly, wide and alert. Chase. Chase Goodwin-Pope-Collins. Son of Ipswich. Murderer. Addict. Manipulator.

Your wards activated all at once and sent chase flying backwards away from you. He hit the wall with a heavy thud, head cracking dangerously against the plaster. You breathed heavily for a moment, trying to reign in your feelings and runaway heart.

He blinked blearily up at you and you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a concussion from that hit. “Why?” he croaked, mind swimming from the head trauma.

You stalked over to him and, with a careless wave of your hand, healed the concussion. He blinked slowly then looked up at you more clearly than before, but you spoke before he could. “Do not play with my emotions, Warlock. I’m not some sniveling schoolgirl you can manipulate. Trying to seduce me won’t get you your powers back. It will do nothing but earn my ire. If you try such a tactic again I’ll knock you out and leave you stranded in a different country. Or, better yet, a jail cell. Never take advantage of my kindness again,” you spat, face inches from his.

His eyes were wide and, you thought bitterly, convincingly hurt.

Satisfied you’d made your point you turned on your heel and began to stalk away, but froze at the sound of his voice.

“Wait. Please, (Y/N), wait,” he begged.

You took a deep breath and turned to rip him a new one, but froze at what you saw in his outstretched hand.

A purple crystal.

“If you won’t believe my words, at least believe your own magic,” he said quietly, blue-grey eyes pleading.

You stared down at him for a moment as his meaning sunk in. Your heart began beating loudly in your chest again, unbidden. “Where did you get that?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

He looked a little guilty. “You never put it back in your room after Imelda’s. I put your bag back in your room, but… but I kept this crystal.”

“Why?” you hissed, suddenly wary again.

He shifted and stood a little shakily. “Because… Because I was afraid of what you’d feel if you used it on me again,” he admitted quietly. He stared down at the crystal, gripping it once tightly before he relaxed his hand and held it out for you. His blue eyes met yours and you swore you stopped breathing for a second at the emotion there. “But if this is the only way you’ll believe me… then I can’t be afraid anymore.”

You stared at him for a moment, looking for any sign of deception or weakness. Finding none, you slowly reached out and clasped hands with him, purple crystal trapped between your hands.

The first thing you did was check to make sure he hadn’t somehow tampered with it, but it was as clean as it had been the day you’d used it at Imelda’s. You focused more intently on it and stared him dead in the eyes.

The moment you met his eyes a nearly overwhelming wave of adoration rolled from him to you through the crystal. Love. Admiration. Respect. Lust. Joy. They rolled over you like waves crashing into the beach, so genuine and naked that you had to blink back tears. Underneath all those bright emotions was Fear, Trepidation, Dread. He was scared of these feelings. Of losing you. Of not being good enough in your eyes.

Of you not loving him back.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered, reaching up slowly, hesitating for only a split second before he gently wiped your tears away with his thumb.

“I love you, too,” you croaked, a little shocked at the truth in your own words. You hadn’t even managed to admit it to yourself before now.

He froze and looked at you as though you’d grown a second head.

You smiled, though it was more of a grimace. “Don’t be so surprised, asshole. I watched you struggle every day. I was watching closely enough to know how much it was tearing you apart. The things you did. Who you were with who you became with who you are now. I knew for sure once you told me what happened in your past while we were at Imelda’s. Suddenly I knew why I let you destroy my damn house every day,” you snuffled.

“In my defense, you can repair it like it never happened,” he said, though he ducked his head guiltily at the flat you look you gave him.

You stared at him sadly. “I can’t give you your powers back. This won’t change that.” You had to tell him that up front. It was only fair.

His lip quirked up at the corner, but it was more of a grimace. “I know.”

You returned the sad smile and leaned your face into his hand, relishing the way it felt against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured reverently, blunt, short nails scratching deliciously against your scalp.

You blinked up at him, then frowned. He looked apprehensive, but you smiled reassuringly at him. “One second…” you muttered, focusing on the crystal in your hands. You were still being overwhelmed by his emotions for you, but he had no idea how you really felt about him.

It took a few seconds, but a moment later he gasped as you reversed the flow in the crystal. Now your emotions poured into him and when he looked back at you his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them.

“Oh, Baby…” he whispered brokenly.

A second later you were being swept up in his arms, crystal dropping to the ground, forgotten. It had served its purpose valiantly, but now there were other things to do.

Your lips crashed against his and he was kissing you back fervently, occasionally bumping into a wall or doorway. He did manage to get the two of you to your room eventually, and broke the kiss long enough to murmur, “Door,” before his lips were back on your neck.

“Just open it,” you gasped as he sucked a bruise into the column of your throat.

He didn’t hesitate to reach behind you and yank the door open, even if he had been zapped by the doorknob fifty times before. You used your advantageous position to grind your hips against his, drawing a filthy moan from his throat. He nearly tripped over one of your books then actually tripped over a stray cauldron. Luckily you were close enough to the bed at that point that you landed harmlessly on the springy softness, though you let out a squeak of surprise anyway.

Chase grinned down at you and you felt embarrassed heat rush to your cheeks.

“That was adorable,” he crooned, placing gentle kisses to your neck as he used one of his hands to rearrange you further onto the bed. He followed after you, mouth not leaving your skin for even a second. You’d have bruises for days thanks to those sinful lips.

He played your body like an instrument but you found yourself missing his lips. Wordlessly, you tugged clumsily at his shirt a few times before he seemed to get the message and crawled back up the bed until he was hovering above you. Not wanting to wait you leaned up and wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging him down on top of you while you kissed him hard and messily. His hands didn’t remain idle, working their way under your shirt and up your sides. His touch was so light and teasing that goosebumps rose to your skin and you shivered against him. You could feel him smirk against your lips at that, but any retort you could conjure up was promptly dashed from your mind as he palmed gently over your bra, lingering ever so slightly on your hardening nipples.

You gasped against his lips and arched into his touch. “It’s in the way,” he complained, tugging at the fabric of your shirt between careful, teasing touches that had your body hot and needy for more.

“Then take it off,” you whispered, already setting to work on the buttons of his shirt. The second your shirt was up and over your head he was kissing you again, all tongue and teeth as he yanked his now-unbuttoned shirt off and threw it on the floor where it joined yours in a rapidly increasing pile.

The next thing to join the shirts was your bra, which you barely noticed Chase undoing with deft fingers, as your own attention was focused on exploring every inch of his exposed chest that you hadn’t allowed yourself to stare at too long the last time you saw it. He was lean, with dense muscle just below the surface that you could feel every time he shifted above you.

His knee came up and parted your legs and you let him, immediately wrapping your legs around him and groaning as he took advantage of the position to grind, dirty and slow, against you.

“You make the prettiest noises, Baby,” he whispered into your ear after a particularly surprised, loud gasp. He took your earlobe between his teeth and bit gently, but even that glorious sensation couldn’t hide the way one of his hands was quickly undoing the button on your pants, zipper following a second later.

When his hand slipped below your underwear and his middle finger ran through your folds you actually stopped breathing for a second. Chase was watching you with rapt attention, his steel blue eyes so intense that you had to fight the urge to look away.

“Chase…” you breathed, tone almost shamelessly pleading.

But that only caused Chase to smile and remove his hand. You were about to protest but a second later he was gently but firmly unwrapping your legs from around his waist and shimmying your pants down your legs, placing soft kisses and nips to the tender, inner parts of your thighs as he went. Your jeans joined the other clothing on the floor with an audible fwump and you half expected Chase to come back up and start kissing you again, but he surprised you by looking up at you with lust-blown eyes and placing light, fleeting kisses to your hip.

Suddenly all you could focus on was the way his hands moved on your skin, the hot puffs of breath as his lips traveled downwards. He hooked a finger into the side of your underwear, dragging them down at a tortuously slow pace. His eyes didn’t leave you the entire time and you had half a mind to just rip your own damn underwear off, but, as it turned out, it was worth the wait. You didn’t even have any idea where your underwear landed because the second they were off of you his face was between your legs, licking a long stripe up your folds that had you keening.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to obscure the obscene sounds coming from your lips. Chase was having none of it, though, and immediately lifted his head ever so slightly. “I wanna hear you, beautiful,” he said, sounding as wrecked as he looked. “You taste so good and I wanna hear how I make you feel. Please,” he said quietly, though you had a feeling he wouldn’t continue until you removed your hand.

It was an easy choice.

The second your hand went down and tangled itself in his short brown locks he returned to what he’d been doing. His tongue danced lightly around your clit until you were a panting mess before it slid down, slick and hot, to spear into your soaking cunt. You gasped as he flicked his tongue relentlessly into you over and over again, and when he slipped a finger into your sopping entrance and moved his mouth to suck ever so perfectly at your abused clit you came without any warning. Your hips bucked and ground against his face but Chase didn’t even flinch, enthusiastically licking and finger-fucking you through your sudden orgasm. It went on for longer than you thought possible until you were reduced to a babbling, gasping mess under Chase’s expert mouth. Just as it was getting to be too much he relented, looking like sin as he licked devilishly at his lips.

“Think you can do another round?” he murmured, kissing his way back up your stomach and to your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips and that, more than anything, made heat rush back to your face again.

You tried your best to give him a pouty glare, and you must have been successful because he was smiling down at you with barely-contained lust. “Don’t you dare stop now,” you muttered, yanking him down for another kiss.

His hands left your sensitive skin to hastily peel his skin-tight jeans off, boxers tugged off in the same smooth motion. Then he was back, looming over you with pupils blown so wide with lust that they nearly appeared black.

“Condoms?” he murmured, delaying your answer slightly by leaning down to kiss you deeply, making you moan as he slipped his tongue on your mouth.

When he finally relented, you smirked up at him. “I’m a witch, Chase. If I couldn’t prevent pregnancy or prevent and cure diseases, I’d suck at my job,” you whispered, trying your best to reach every inch of his skin that you could.

He groaned low in his throat when you reached behind him and gave the globes of his ass an appreciative squeeze.

With nothing holding him back, he wasted no time in lining himself up with your sopping entrance, a nearly pained groan leaving his lips between your kisses as he teased your entrance with his tip.

You broke the messy, fevered kiss long enough to stare up at him with lust-glazed eyes and murmur, “Please, Chase. Fuck, I need you.”

“Fuck, Baby,” he groaned reverently, giving both of you only a moment to prepare yourselves before his hips were gliding forwards, shoving inch after pussy-stretching, delicious inch into you.

Your breath was nearly punched out of your lungs as the all-encompassing feeling of being full overtook all other sensations. With what was likely the last of his self-control, Chase stayed still, well-defined hips flush against you. An experimental roll of his hips against you had you both cursing and gasping.

“Chase, god, fuck me,” you gasped. Your eager cunt was clutching tightly against his length and that, along with your words, pulled a growl-like sound from the depths of Chase’s chest. A second later his hips were drawing back until just his head was inside before he thrust forward all at once. The sound of flesh against flesh rang out lewdly in the space of your bedroom along with the unabashed moan torn from your throat at the movement.

Chase’s lips travelled over your exposed skin as he set a fast pace, seemingly unable to take it slow now that you were finally together. Every moan that spilled from your lips spurred him onwards, eager to pleasure you while also chasing after his own end.

Your skin felt hot, almost uncomfortably so, as Chase’s mouth attached itself to one of your nipples and began licking and sucking in a way that had you arching into the touch, hands clawing at his sides, needing relief and more at the same time.

“Taste so good,” he purred reverently, voice strained from putting so much energy into fucking you.

His hips slammed into yours with nearly a bruising force and you began to lose time, not sure how long you’ve been under the man bringing you so much pleasure. The slick slide of his cock in and out of you and his wicked tongue working away at your nipples were all you could focus on. After some time, though, you could feel all the heat in your body begin to head south, your impending orgasm coiling low in your belly.

“Chase. Chase, I’m-” you moaned out, trying to give him a warning. Your legs circled his waist, urging him deeper with each thrust, spread all the wider when he fully sheathed himself in your wet heat.

“Me too, (Y/N). God, you feel so good,” he managed to gasp out before his lips were on yours. His pace became more erratic as his orgasm approached. Without warning, his hand reached between your writhing bodies and rubbed expertly at your clit, throwing you over the edge into a mind blowing, body-wrecking orgasm.

“Of fuck, Chase! Yes. _Yesyesyesyes_ ,” you babbled as white-hot pleasure rolled through your body in a wave. He fucked you through your climax, brow furrowed with pleasure and concentration as he slammed into you again and again. The feeling of your pussy clenching around him finally triggered his own orgasm and with a shuttered cry of your name you felt his cock twitch deep inside of you.

“‘M coming, Baby. Gonna come in you. Fuck, (Y/N),” he groaned.

Once, twice, and on the third thrust he buried himself deep inside of you, cock head nearly brushing your cervix as he emptied himself in your welcoming walls.

The thought of him coming so deep inside of you nearly set you off again, but you were too tired and blissfully-fucked out to try and come again.

Chase all but collapsed on top of you, narrowly avoiding crushing you under his broad chest. His arms wrapped around you and you shivered at the feeling of his cock still inside of you.

“Heavy,” you breathed even as you nosed at his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Sorry, I can-” he rumbled, voice syrupy and deep from his post-orgasmic haze, as he moved to get off of you, but you held him in place with your arms and legs.

“Don’t,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss to his skin. His skin was salty from sweat and you licked a thick stripe up his neck, drawing a satisfied sigh from him. You let him feel your power as you gathered it and focused on a simple hover spell.

He gasped as the two of you rose a foot off the bed and turned slowly in the air. By the time you were back on the bed Chase was underneath you and you were lying lazily on top of him, head pillowed on his shoulder.

“Like warming my cock that much, huh?” he jabbed playfully, fondness seeping into his voice.

You swatted his head, not quite hard enough to hurt, and he chuckled for a few beats before quieting.

“Can’t get over how good it feels,” Chase murmured as he placed a light kiss to your hair.

“Mm?” you hummed sleepily, tilting your head up so you could look at him.

He smiled down at you and ran his fingers through your hair. “You,” he winked suggestively.

You were about to tell him off for the terrible line but he shifted just enough that you could feel his softening cock inside of you, drawing a surprised gasp from your lips.

He smirked knowingly and stilled. His fingers traced nonsensical patterns into your skin with a featherlight touch that had goosebumps breaking out all over. “Your magic, too. Feels so good,” he admitted softly.

You squeezed his arm gently as your mind drifted. Was it possible for a Son of Ipswich to learn your craft? Even with all you knew, you couldn’t be sure. Chances were no Son had ever tried. Maybe…

No, those were thoughts for another day. Your brain was still struggling to function as it was.

You let out a long sigh and relaxed into Chase’s arms, breath catching ever so slightly as he moved, dragging one of the blankets that had been shoved aside over both of you.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he murmured, though he already sounded nearly asleep.

You grinned and placed a lingering kiss to his chest before murmuring a “Goodnight, Chase,” and falling asleep immediately after.

 

* * *

 

 

You awoke a little groggily, mouth a little dry, limbs a little sore, and it took you a moment to realize what woke you up and why you couldn’t move.

You opened one bleary eye and stared at the breathtakingly serene image of Chase asleep next to you, big arms wrapped securely around your waste. The blanket had fallen low around your waists while you slept and you almost wished he was far enough away that you could take a peek at him in all his naked glory, but the thing that woke you up caught your attention again.

Someone was knocking politely but a little insistently at the front door. You let out a long sigh and tried your best to shuffle out of Chase’s arms, noting a little petulantly that he’d slipped out of you at some point in the night, but he snuffled and stirred before you got very far and reeled you back into his chest. 

“Dun’ go,” he murmured, voice deep and a little croaky from still being half asleep.

You fought back the urge to laugh at his sleepy, frowny face, and placed a firm kiss right between his eyebrows. That, at least, softened his scowl for a second, but it returned with a vengeance when you began extracting yourself from his embrace again.

“Gotta get the door, Sweet Thing,” you whispered. He didn’t even open his eyes as he leaned forward to kiss you. One of his big hands cupped your face gently and he used it as a guide to let him find your lips, but you laughed and clapped a hand to his mouth before he could get too close. “I’m not kissin’ you ‘til you brush that nasty mouth of yours,” you teased gently.

Chase groaned in earnest at that and finally released you. “No fun,” he muttered, though his lips were quirked up at the corners as he opened one of those stunning steel blue eyes and pointed it blearily at you.

You chuckled and ducked in to place another kiss on his forehead, laughing harder when he tried to pull you in for a real kiss. You dodged his outstretched arms and danced away from the bed, winking playfully at him as both of his eyes opened a little comically wide at the sight of you completely naked. The show was over fast, though, as you pulled on the nearest clean-looking shirt and pants.

“It’s probably my neighbors Marianne and Roberto and their daughter Angelina. They always stop by my house during Girl Scout Cookie season because they know I’m a soft touch. I always end up buying a case of Thin Mints, Samoas, and Tagalongs each.”

Chase’s nose crinkled up in disgust. “You have terrible taste in cookies.”

You scoffed at that as you finished buttoning your pants. “Alright then, cookie connoisseur. What kind do you want?”

Chase smirked up at you from the bed, his smile only growing when your gaze kept drifting down his body. “Trefoils. 24 boxes, please.”

You stared at him in horror. “Shortbread? Really?” You were about to give him a piece of your mind, but the knocking at the door was growing louder and a little more impatient. You didn’t blame them. It was getting cold out fast these days. “Coming!” you called down the halls. You fixed Chase with a pointed stare. “Teeth. Brush,” you said, pointing at him threateningly before you disappeared through the doorway, the sound of his gentle laughter following you and making you smile.

You couldn’t help but grin like an idiot all the way to the door. Last night had been… amazing. And now you were getting cookies.

So lost in your own thoughts of Chase, it took you a split second longer than it should have to realize it wasn’t your nice neighbors, the Samsons, standing on your porch.

The overwhelming stench of rotting, rancid meat hit you like a wave and it was all you could do not to spill the contents of your stomach on the spot. You did however, gag a bit, which only seemed to anger or amuse the Sons of Ipswich staring at you, expressions ranging from apprehensive to mocking to furious.

“Where is he?” the oldest- Caleb- asked, anger boiling behind his eyes.

You glared at him, mind kicking into overdrive. _They know about Chase. They know I have him. They know he’s probably here. Fuck. Please, stay in the fucking bedroom. Don’t come out here right now._ “Who the fuck are you talking about? And why the fuck do you think you have the right to just show up at my house? What if the other hedge witches find out? I’ll be a laughing stock at the convention!” you hissed.

One of them- Pogue, if you had to guess- frowned at you in confusion. “You have conventions?”

Your baleful gaze turned on him. “Yes. We swap potion recipes, rare crystals, useful tomes, cookie recipes, and knitting patterns,” you said dryly. You turned back to Caleb, who seemed to more or less be the leader. “Now, I’ll ask again. What the fuck are you doing at my house uninvited?” _Why the hell didn’t my wards warn me? They should have blocked them from teleporting themselves within ten miles of my house._ They shifted a bit and you could barely see a loud yellow SUV (A Hummer, maybe? Did people still drive Hummers?) sitting in your driveway. Ah, they drove in. Great.

The loud-looking, angry one finally took a half step forward, only stopped from entering your house by one of Caleb’s firm hands shooting out to stop him. “Quit fucking with us, Hedge Witch. We know he’s here.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. He was the most impulsive of all of them and it showed. Even though he ascended close to last he looked at least a few years older than the others. “I’ve already told you, I have no idea who you’re talking about. Now leave me the hell along before I hex your asses into next Sunday.”

Reid pushed past Caleb’s arm at the threat, his temper flaring dangerously. You would normally have been afraid- a double ascended warlock and three ascended warlocks were far beyond your hope of defeating conventionally- but the need to protect Chase overrode all of it. “Don’t threaten me you fucking bitch,” he spat. He got all of one toe over the threshold of your house before your wards etched into the doorway flared to near-blinding brightness and sent him flying back so far that he landed in the middle of the field across the street from your house.

The other three watched this happen with wide eyes, but Reid was up within a second of hitting the ground, eyes black and face twisted with fury. He was back in front of your door again in a blink of an eye, staring balefully down at you with those soulless black eyes.

“Reid,” Caleb said carefully, but Reid didn’t so much as flinch.

“I wonder how long these can keep us back,” Reid spat, raising a hand to slowly press on the field your wards created.

_“Reid,”_ the last one- Tyler- hissed, looking between you and Reid nervously.

The wards on your door flared again, but Reid was able to stand his ground with his powers backing him up this time. You watched with wide eyes as your wards began to sputter and black out one by one. Only a few more seconds and-

Caleb’s hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist, finally tearing Reid’s burning gaze from you. They had a silent, furious conversation for a moment before Reid tore his hand from Caleb’s and fisted his hands at his sides, eyes clearing to their usual blue.

Caleb gave him one last, wary look before turning to look back at you. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped it for a few seconds before he flipped it so you could see the screen.

There, on what was likely footage from a traffic cam, were you and Chase in your dirty little black Jeep. The picture was clear enough that there’d be no mistaking the two of you.

Caleb was studying you closely, but your face remained carefully impassive as you panicked internally. “We know he’s been seen with you on multiple occasions. We also know there haven’t any been suspicious, unexplainable deaths since you visited Ipswich all those months ago. We thought he was gone when he didn’t show up for seven years, but then _this_. You. The sightings. It’s only a matter of time until he comes after us again or hurts someone else.” Caleb paused then, eyes softening a little. “Is he hurting you? Controlling you with magic?” he asked gently as though you were some delicate little thing that would break with the slightest pressure.

But you could work with this. They believed you an unwilling participant in your relationship with Chase (how wrong they were!), a pawn in his scheming. You prayed that your luck would continue to hold out and Chase would stay out of sight just a little bit longer.

Time to hope those acting classes in high school payed off. “I-” you bit the word back and grimaced as though it hurt for you to talk. “He-” you choked out again, face twisted into a grimace.

“What? What did he do to you? We can help,” Pogue said urgently.

“Not here,” you breathed, hands flying to your head to clutch at the sides, breath coming in gasps.

“He’s not here?” Reid inferred, scowl seemingly permanently attached to his face.

You nodded quickly. “Doesn’t- Leaves- Shows up-” You hoped that Chase wouldn’t hear any of this from his spot in the farthest part of the house. They had to leave quickly, or this charade wouldn’t matter at all.

“He comes and goes?” Tyler guessed, and you nodded quickly.

Caleb shifted uncomfortably at the sight of you in what seemed to be so much pain. “Let us help you. We can undo what he did and-”

“No!” you hissed. “Thought of that. Failsafes.”

They stared at you for a moment longer before understanding passed across Caleb’s face. “He knew we’d find the two of you eventually. He made sure you wouldn’t be able to talk to us if we tried to remove his spells.”

Another quick nod and Reid and Pogue were swearing under their breath while Caleb and Tyler looked troubled.

After a moment, Caleb nodded. “Alright. We’ll fall back until we come up with a plan to save you and-”

“Hey, Honey. Did you finish buying those cookies yet? I-”

The six of you froze in unison as Chase turned around the corner, sweatpants slung low on his hips, bare chest completely exposed.

The moment hung in the air, then many things happened at once. Chase dove forward to put himself between you and the other Sons. You activated all your emergency house wards which would hopefully be enough of a distraction to give you and Chase a chance to escape. Caleb and Reid reached forward, eyes black as coal, and nullified your wards with a flick of their wrists, dashing your hopes for a  getaway. Pogue and Tyler stepped forward and used their power to freeze you in place.

Chase flung himself in front of you, arms stretched out wide and and a vicious scowl placed on his face. Under his arm you saw Reid and Caleb step forward, faces set as they gathered power in their hands.

_No, you don’t have powers,_ you wanted to scream at him. _You’ll be ripped to pieces by that attack_. Your mouth tried to form the words, but no sound came out. Pogue and Tyler’s spell was oppressive in its power and a wave of renewed hatred for the Sons of Ipswich rolled through you.

Chase turned his back on them and stared down at you with soft, open blue eyes and you stared up at him in horror. _No, I don’t want to see you die, you screamed in your head._

“I love you,” he whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear it. His smile was sad but resigned and you wanted to scream at him, tell him to run. He had come so far. He didn’t deserve to die. Not now.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning forward to place a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His eyes were closed but he took a step back, ready to accept their judgement if it meant you’d be saved.

_Fuck. No. No no no no no no._

You felt more than saw the spell begin to finish. The air sparked dangerously around you, setting every nerve of your exposed skin on fire.

You didn’t think. You only knew that Chase was completely incapable of defending himself from their attack. Power coalesced in the wards etched into your skin, nearly overpowering the static of the Sons’ spell, but all at once you were able to move again.

By the time Chase realized you’d moved, you were already diving in front of him, digging frantically in your pockets for your warding crystal; the one you usually kept on yourself in case of emergencies.

But it wasn’t there, and by the time you were looking up, mid-step, the spell was flying at you, a see-through warping of the air around it, deadly sharp and fast.

You felt as though you’d been shoved backwards as it hit you.

“Huh,” you whispered, staring at the Sons, mouth open in a perfect “O” of surprise.

And then the world tilted and you went down. Voices on either side of you cried out in alarm and it was with great difficulty that you focused on the one you cared about most. You blinked a few times, confusion clouding your thoughts like a sticky paste. Why was everything so slow?

“No, Sweetheart. No. Why? Please, look at me, Sweet Thing.”

That was Chase’s voice.

With what seemed like a monumental effort you turned your head to look at him, a dopey smile lighting your face up when you saw that he wasn’t hurt. Dimly, you realized he was holding you in his arms. Those thick thighs were under your legs and both strong arms were wrapped around your torso, clutching you tightly to his chest.

“You gotta run, Chase. They wanna hurt you,” you breathed. You lifted your hand up to his face, wondering why it felt like lead as you brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. They were dark without the light of the sun to brighten them, even more so with the confusion and unease that seemed to be running through every fiber of his being.

He just shook his head forcefully and pulled you tighter to his chest. “Why did you do that, Baby? Why?” he gasped. It wasn’t until a droplet of moisture landed on your nose that you realized he was crying almost silently, tears running down his face.

You smiled up at him, but couldn’t muster the energy to wipe his tears away. The amount of energy it must have taken to block their attack must have been enormous. You hoped you’d at least be able to drag yourself to your bed. “You’ve done so good, Chase. Can’t let them take that away,” you said, though your tongue felt like cotton in your mouth, making you slur a word here or there.

Chase tried in vain to blink away his tears, and his gaze turned furious as he looked up at the other Sons. “Fix her,” he hissed venomously at them.

You frowned in confusion. What was he talking about? You were tired, maybe, but you’d be ok once you rested for a week or two. What was he waiting for? He had to run away while he still could. You used some of your quickly dwindling strength to reach up and make him look at you, but you took one look at your hand and gasped.

Where your hand had been resting against your stomach was now covered in red, tacky blood.

_Oh. That makes sense. I’m dying._

The other Sons might have responded, but you could barely focus now. The world was getting very dark very fast. Somehow, you weren’t afraid. You knew the In Between intimately and what was this but the next great adventure?

With the last of your strength you reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. It was hot as coals compared to your chilly touch, but it drew Chase’s attention immediately.

Black eyes met yours and you let out a tiny, shocked exhale. You were so weak your seal on his powers was breaking.

“You can’t use,” you said hoarsely, with as much conviction as you could muster.

Chase shook his head quickly, eyes clearing to their usual ice blue. “No. You can’t, (Y/N). I can’t- I’m not strong enough. I know I- _I can’t,_ ” he lamented. “Please don’t leave. Not now,” he pleaded.

You smiled sadly at him. You could only really see him at this point, but at least your last few moments would be filled with the stunning beauty that was Chase. “Don’t think... I have a choice here...” you whispered. Some of the words were hard to get out and sounded a little garbled; something- probably blood- was beginning to block your airways. If you had the strength your body would probably try to make you cough it out, but those automatic responses had already shut down.

At least it didn’t hurt.

“Please, Baby. Tell me how to save you. I love you, Honey. I can’t lose you,” he gasped, clutching you tightly against him.

You were thankful he pulled you close. You couldn’t see him anymore. You weren’t even sure if you managed to say, “I love you too, Chase.”

Because everything after that went black.

 

* * *

 

**Two Weeks Ago  
Chase’s POV**

Six years, two months, twenty-five days, seventeen hours, thirty-one minutes.

That was the amount of time that Chase had lost since that fateful showdown with Caleb all those years ago.

And now he was losing even more time to a damn Hedge Witch.

He needed his powers like he needed to breathe and now, almost three months after he’d been pulled out of the In Between by you, the burning, nauseating feeling of not being able to cast had reduced to a low thrum in every cell of his body. Still there, still painful, but not as sharp and all-consuming as it had been.

He sat up in bed a little less gracefully than he might have liked, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair with a heavy sigh. He half expected his feet to be tender with the pain from all the cuts he’d accrued yesterday but, as always, you’d healed all of his physical injuries before you went to sleep.

He always woke up well-rested from magic-induced slumber and you always woke up looking like shit from all the energy you used to heal him and fix your house every night. At first it was perhaps a bit petty that he hurt you in this way- the only way he could- but as time went on he found himself testing you, even though you had nothing to prove to him.

Every day he went down to the kitchen and began shattering your belongings before moving onto the living room, dining room, patio, hallway. Everything but the single room you still hadn’t let him so much as look in.

He watched you more closely than you probably realized. Not once since that first day had you raised your voice at him. In fact, the only time he saw any sort of real reaction from you at all was when he started moving towards that single secret room.

Chase wasn’t stupid. He knew it was your bedroom. Judging by the smell it was also where you prepped most of your little witchy spells and items.

He swapped out of yesterday's ratty, torn clothes and slipped into one of the seemingly endless pairs of sweats and well-fitting t-shirts. He threw the ruined clothes into a pile near the door, knowing that you’d find them wherever he hid them. What you did with them, he didn’t know. Maybe you repaired the damage to them like you did to the rest of your belongings. Chase didn’t look closely enough at the clothes to care.

He padded barefoot into the kitchen, staring balefully at all the pristine appliances. No matter what kind of damage he exacted on your house day in and day out you managed to repair it all. Not a single scratch on the windows that he’d broken countless times. The lights on the oven all worked perfectly, displaying the correct time. The refrigerator hummed almost silently in the corner, although Chase knew he’d taken a crowbar to it at least ten different times and pried it apart until it was tiny pieces (you’d hidden the crowbar after he’d gotten particularly gleeful with it and gone after your Jeep).

As he walked past the counter he grabbed the apple on the counter and bit into it, ravenous from barely eating anything every day the last few months. His eyes spotted the jar of peanut butter sitting on the counter and snatched it and a spoon, digging a huge glob of peanut butter out to eat with the apple, nearly moaning at the taste of the simple meal. Why couldn’t he remember the last time he ate? He flicked his hand in the direction of the coffee machine to start preparing some coffee, only to freeze when nothing happened. The fridge hummed mockingly in the corner and a pipe gurgled softly, laughing merrily at him.

And like that, the relative calm feeling he’d woken up with shattered, throwing razor-sharp shards into his hazy, magic-deprived mind.

Before he knew it the kitchen was in ruins, food and broken appliances on every surface. The fridge was on its side, no longer thrumming its mocking hum throughout the room. The lights on the stove were blinking on and off as the wires tried their best to carry the electrical current and failed, as Chase had at some point taken some sort of sharp object close enough that they cut halfway through the cord. It was a bit of surprise he hadn’t started a fire. Maybe he had. You could have stopped the fire before it spread and he would have been too engrossed in his rampage to notice.

He turned to stare at you, knowing exactly where you’d be before he looked at you. You always stood in the same spot every morning while he destroyed your kitchen: The space between the couch and the wall, with the hallway to the bedrooms and bathrooms behind you. The living room window let in the bright morning light and always silhouetted you in the most stunning glow except for those rare mornings where it wasn’t sunny. On those days, he could easily see your face: the dark circles under your eyes, the sag to your shoulders than hadn’t been there the day he’d met you, your still-messy hair that you hadn’t bothered to brush because you came straight from your bedroom the moment you heard him breaking things to make sure he wasn’t doing anything too drastic.

_I didn’t mean to,_ he wanted to say as he looked away from the vision that was you backed by the radiant glow from the sunrise. Of course, the words didn’t come. They never did. The shattered plates and glass on the floor offered no comfort.

_Why are you helping me?_

_You should be angry._

_Give me my powers back._

_Why aren’t you yelling?_

_I don’t know why I snapped._

_I’m going to ruin you._

_What did I do? I don’t remember._

_You always look so tired._

_If you just gave me my powers back this wouldn’t be happening._

_How long until you kick me out?_

_Will you turn me into the police?_

_Why don’t you ever say anything?_

_I forgot what your voice sounds like._

_I know I liked it._

_You’re being too kind._

_I’m not worth this._

_**Please** give me my powers back._

Those thoughts and hundreds like them bounced around in Chase’s head in his clearer moments.

Recently, though, he was conscious during his rampages, even if he sometimes couldn’t stop the rage that boiled to the surface.

_Need by magic._

_Need it like I need air to breathe._

_Need it like a plant needs the sun._

_I’m nothing without it._

_Need it to live._

But he was living now, wasn’t he?

_No, I’m surviving. Not living_ , the magic-addicted part of his mind would scream back at such a volume that it drowned out that new, tentative voice. She took your magic from you. She wants you powerless and useless. _Weak. Deprived of your birthright._

His fist curled at his side and a second later he was driving it through the plaster of the wall. You didn’t flinch, of course. You had no reason to anymore. He couldn’t hurt you physically. Couldn’t even bring himself to talk to you, much less string together a coherent insult.

_Not that you deserved it._

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? The two sides of Chase’s mind were warring with each other and now he had to scramble to collect the tattered scraps to try and piece together something resembling sanity.

The longer the access to his magic was blocked, however, the harder that new, frightening side fought. Though all that meant now was that he had even more trouble thinking straight.

So Chase kept destroying, always watching you and your impassive, resigned face. Looking for any chink in that armor. Any sign of change or a glimmer of insight into what you were thinking.

Chase had to stop himself from staring.

_God, but you’re beautiful. Cunning and resourceful as hell, too._

He gritted his teeth as his mind heaved and shook so hard with the thought that he almost wanted to puke.

This time, when he marched past you into the living room and began throwing everything in every direction, he watched you closely. Even as a vase sailed within a foot/half meter of your face you didn’t flinch.

No matter what he did, you didn’t react, merely watching him with those indifferent, cold eyes. Not a single spark of emotion flickered across those irises and it made Chase want to scream.

He didn’t know how many hours had passed since he’d woken up and started his rampage, but he finally did the one thing he knew would get a reaction out of you:

He walked straight over to your bedroom door and reached for the handle, turning his head at the last second to witness the tortured look on your face as you hurtled the deep blue sleeping crystal through the air at him.

There. Emotion. A reaction. That spark in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in almost three months. The light that he’d snuffed out due to his actions every day.

The moment before the crystal hit lasted for a small eternity as Chase stared into your eyes, drinking in the stubborn set of your jaw, the flash of anger and frustration, then the brief glimpse of sadness.

Chase’s heart twisted with regret and shame.

And then he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

**The Present, Your House.  
Chase’s POV**

“Fix her,” Chase said, eyes black as a starless sky as he looked up at the other Sons.

You’d stopped talking and Chase couldn’t tell if you were still breathing or not. You’d said you’d loved him and then closed your eyes and now he wasn’t sure if you’d open them again and-

They didn’t move and Chase fought the urge to throw energy blasts at them. 

_Can’t use. Told me not to use._

“Help me. Help _her_ ,” Chase urged again, tone pleading and more vulnerable than the other Sons had ever heard it.

“We don’t-” Tyler began, only to be silenced by the look Chase gave him.

“She’s gone, Chase…” Caleb said, sounding both wary and pained.

“No!” Chase yelled, hugging you tightly to his chest. A shockwave rolled out of him without him thinking consciously about it and he hissed as the feeling of his powers rolled through him. The others Sons stumbled back a half step, caught off guard, and Reid and Tyler’s hands came up, ready to defend themselves.

_Sticky. Hot. Good, so good. Wrong. Heady. Nauseating._

Even as his body sang at being able to use again his mind convulsed. Now that he knew what your magic felt like, the power he’d grown so used to over the years felt toxic.

And still, he wanted to cast again, feel the power thrum through his veins.

“We don’t even know how to help, Chase…” It was Pogue that spoke up this time, staring down at you with unmistakable sadness. He was always the most human except for Caleb. They were both bleeding hearts.

No, of course they wouldn’t know how to help. They were Sons of Ipswich, and Sons of Ipswich never used their powers to heal. That kind of magic was beneath such powerful warlocks.

With a curse Chase stood suddenly, holding you securely in his arms. Reid, Tyler, and Pogue twitched as their eyes turned solid black. Only Caleb remained wary but impassive, eyes their usual dark brown.

Chase didn’t have time to spit curses at them. You were dying, if you weren’t dead already, and they wouldn’t be any help. Even his own powers couldn’t help you.

He kicked the back door down, wincing as the heavy wood hit the patio, and began walking to the edge of the lake, praying that his convoluted half-plan might work.

He looked down at your face and nearly broke down on the spot. You looked so peaceful, even with a trail of drying blood dribbling down your chin and your torso cut to ribbons.

When he got to the edge of the water he didn’t stop walking. He didn’t pause to take off his shoes and simply walked doggedly into the water, barely registering the muck that made its home in his shoes, and didn’t stop until it was up to his waist.

Your feet dangled in the water, but he kept you mostly out of the water as he focused his thoughts, trying to remember the way it felt when you gathered your energy. You’d never drawn from the earth in front of him and he wasn’t even sure if the earth would listen to him, even to save you. He could hear the other Sons walking down towards the lake, their feet crunching against the smooth rocks.

“Please,” he pleaded quietly as he tried to reach out to the energy around him. “I can’t help her. I don’t know. Please,” he begged the land around him.

A swirl of water alerted him to Vasehny’s appearance, though the shocked exclamations of the other Sons would have clued him in anyway.

Chase opened his eyes, gaze immediately falling to the merperson, who looked absolutely murderous. His sharp teeth were bared at Chase, but Chase was already shaking his head.

“It wasn’t me, Vasehny. But she’s dying and I don’t know how to help her. The earth won’t listen to me,” he said, distraught.

Vasehny frowned but immediately moved forward in the water, giving the other Sons a single glance before he placed a scaly, webbed hand to Chase’s forehead.

Chase let out a gasp of surprise as knowledge, awareness, understanding, power, and life flowed into him like water. It was all-encompassing, the entire world laid out in front of him. He was a tiny speck in a huge expanse, an ever-shifting system of countless organisms, forces, elements, and galaxies. He understood, finally, what you meant when you said you’d lost yourself when you drew too much power from the earth. It took every ounce of his will to keep hold of himself, a single thought focusing the nearly boundless energy flowing through him.

_I have to save her._

He snapped back into his body like a rubberband, not realizing how thinly he’d been stretched until that second. Vasehny removed his hand from Chase’s forehead like he’d been burned, but he was looking at Chase with wide, determined eyes.

Chase gave him a single, thankful nod as he gathered energy in his hands, letting it flow from the earth, through him, and into you.

He watched, enrapt, as the vicious slashes in your torso repaired themselves, weaving flesh back together and mending torn tissues and organs. Chase hardly dared to breathe as he worked the magic, scared he’d lose focus.

Scared he’d lose you.

The magic took its time and Chase wished he knew how to make it work faster. You were still unmoving and no matter how hard he stared he couldn’t tell if you were breathing or not.

When the magic stopped flowing through him he panicked and looked up to Vasehny in alarm, but the merperson was gone.

He looked back down at you, blood running cold, and his heart stopped.

Your eyes were open and blinking slowly up at him, bleary and dazed. Your chest was moving ever so gently up and down.

“Oh, Baby,” he whispered reverently, hauling you up into his arms so tenderly it was as though you were made of glass.

“Chase…” you muttered quietly, surprise clear in your voice as you clutched weakly at his chest and hair.

“You’re okay. I got you. You’re okay,” he breathed, running a big hand over your back comfortingly. It sounded like he was saying it as much to himself as to you.

“You saved me…” you whispered quietly, tears coming to your eyes now as it sunk in how close you’d been to dying. Hell, you might have died. You couldn’t be sure; it wasn’t like you could remember.

Chase turned back towards the shore and began the laborious process of walking back to dry land. “Vasehny helped. I didn’t know how to draw power from the earth,” he admitted quietly. “But I’ll always try to save you,” he whispered fervently, placing a kiss to your temple.

You buried your face in his neck, not realizing at first that the horrid rotting smell was coming not just from the other Sons but from Chase as well.

“You have your powers,” you whispered. Had you the strength, you would have leaned back enough to look at him, but as it was you barely had the strength to hold onto him and he was doing most of the work.

“Yeah, I do,” he said tightly as he walked back towards the house. You could see the others Sons and gave them all a baleful stare, but a splash in the lake caught your attention. Vasehny popped his head out of the water and gave you a small wave. Even from here you could see he looked relieved. You returned his gesture with a tiny wave of your own, wishing you could do more, but your arm felt like lead. It seemed to be enough and he disappeared below the surface just as Chase walked back into the house.

He went straight to your room and set you down on the bed which still reeked of sex from the night before.

Had that been yesterday? It felt like so long ago now. So much had happened in such a short amount of time.

You let yourself be lowered into bed and tucked in, valiantly ignoring the other Sons which watched the entire thing with confused, dubious stares as they hovered in the doorway.

Chase brushed some hair from your face and planted a kiss to your forehead. “Gonna get you some water and something to eat. After that you can get some sleep, alright?”

You nodded for a second, then frowned. “Need’ta shower. Covered in blood,” you murmured with a grumpy frown.

Chase frowned apologetically and ran a thumb gently over your cheek. “Food and sleep are more important right now,” he argued quietly.

You wanted to argue, but sleep was already tugging at your eyelids. “Fine,” you agreed with a sleepy nod.

He smiled tiredly at you, but his blue eyes shone with happiness. “I’m going to wake you up if you fall asleep while I’m gone. You’ll need food in you.”

“Alrigh’,” you mumbled, though your eyes were already closed.

Chase smiled down at you and placed another kiss to your forehead before he stood and headed towards the door, expression going from loving to hateful in an instant as he stared down the other Sons. They all tensed and moved out of the way as Chase exited your room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Black overtook his eyes as he motioned wordlessly towards the kitchen, pointedly turning his back on the other Sons as he marched away from your room, not looking back to see if they were following.

He immediately went to the pantry and pulled out some bread and peanut butter, not wanting to make anything too intricate in case your stomach decided to throw a tantrum after your recent escapades. He took a deep breath and willed his powers away with a monumental effort, blinking as his eyes returned to their grey-blue.

The other Sons hovered in the doorway while Chase worked, but eventually it was Caleb who spoke up (which didn’t surprise Chase at all). “We’re sorry-” he began, but quickly closed his mouth as Chase grabbed a knife from the block and threw it at him, no powers needed. It embedded itself in the wall right next to Caleb’s head. The other Son’s eyes flashed black before he took a deep breath and they receded to their normal color.

“You almost killed her and I’ll never forgive you for that,” Chase said simply as he popped the bread into the toaster and uncrewed the lid on the peanut butter jar.

“Is that a threat?” Reid asked, glaring at Chase.

Chase glared at the blond. “No, just a fact.”

Tyler elbowed Reid in the chest and the blond glared at the other Son, clearly annoyed.

Caleb tried again. “We didn’t realize-”

Chase cut across him again. “No, you didn’t. I can’t blame you for wanting to kill me. Not after what I did to you, but-” he paused and took a deep breath. “I’m staying here. With her. As soon as she’s better I’m going to ask her to seal my powers again.”

All four of them frowned at that, looking at each other in confusion. It was Pogue who recovered first. “What do you mean, ‘seal your powers’?” he asked.

Chase grabbed the toast as it came out of the toaster and set to work at slathering it with peanut butter and just a tiny bit of honey. “She tricked me into it three months ago. Got me to seal away my own powers. Still there, still part of me, but I couldn’t access them. Couldn’t use. Drove me insane for the better part of two and a half months. Finally started to think clearly a few weeks ago.”

Tyler was looking at Chase in confusion and even braved a step forward. “I don’t understand. We can’t live without our powers, so how-”

Chase rolled his eyes and glared at Tyler. “I just told you. They were still a part of me, I just couldn’t access them. It’s like she put a box around them, or something. I’m not sure how to explain it. Still there, just not usable.”

Caleb frowned. “That shouldn’t be possible,” he said warily.

Chase grabbed a small plate and threw the toast on top of with perhaps too much force and went to the cupboard. He grabbed your stupid little starbucks tumbler that he hated for a long time because it always refused to break. Now, it would come in handy with its reusable straw and somewhat air-tight lid. He filled it with water and stared hatefully over his shoulder. “Yeah, that’s what _I_ thought. Didn’t you think it was sorta suspicious how I didn’t even try to fight back when you came knocking?” he asked. He flicked the faucet off once the cup was full and screwed the lid on.

“We’re all ascended now and even back when it was just you and Caleb, Caleb won, so…” Reid said a little vindictively.

Chase fought the urge to throw a knife at his face.

He failed in that endeavor and a second later Chase threw one at Reid's face anyway, though Reid let it fly past his head and into the wall, single eyebrow raised.

“I thought if I just let you guys kill me you’d leave her be,” he hissed as he grabbed the plate of toast with his other hand. The other Sons parted so he could walk past and Chase’s back itched as their gazes followed him.

They didn’t seem to have anything to say to that and Chase was thankful for the silence. Every word they said pissed him off. They were such annoying-

He took a deep breath and carefully juggled the plate and the cup so he could open the door, glaring murderous daggers at Caleb when he moved to help him.

“I know you aren’t going to leave, so just go sit in the fucking living room or something,” he said before slipping inside of your room and shutting the door in their faces.

He paused just inside the doorway, heart skipping a beat as he stared down at you. He forgot to breathe for a moment until he finally saw your chest move and eyes twitch from whatever you were dreaming about.

He exhaled his relief and walked over to your bed, perching carefully on the edge. It was a bit of a struggle to find a place for the plate of toast where it wouldn’t immediately fall over, but he eventually managed it and reached out to shake your shoulders ever so slightly.

“Wake up, Love. I brought food,” he murmured, smiling as you blinked up at him. When you smiled his own smile only grew. He helped you sit up, wary of touching your waist since it had been bloody and almost nonexistent just a short while ago.

“Whadidja get me?” you mumbled, hand reaching out to lace your fingers together with his.

He used his free hand to put the plate of toast in your lap and you blinked down at it, frown on your face.

He bit back a laugh at the petulant look. “C’mon, we dunno how your body’s gonna take food yet. Thought I’d keep it simple. You keep that down and I’ll make you something better a little later. Deal?” he asked, batting those unfairly long eyelashes up at you.

You sighed and nodded, utterly defeated by such an effective attack.

* * *

 

**Your POV**

The peanut butter toast and water stayed down. So did the grilled chicken and juice. You demanded coffee but, seeing as it was 1 a.m. and you were still so sleepy, Chase had flat out refused to get you any.

By 3 a.m. you demanded a shower, which was how you and Chase ended up naked in the bottom of your bathtub, hot water running over both of you. Pink water ran down the drain and you more or less fell asleep against his chest as he held you, carefully washing your now-scarred belly.

You woke up in your bed which had freshly-cleaned sheets, Chase plastered to your back like a sloth.

“Chase,” you muttered sleepily, wiggling a bit to try and get him to wake up.

“Mm,” was the only response you got. He pulled you somehow closer even though you were sure not even a stray atom could have come between you.

“Hungry,” you grunted, stomach rumbling a split second later to corroborate your story.

Chase snorted, blowing warm air against your neck, and you smiled. “Yeah, alright. Whaddya want?” he mumbled, though he was pulling away from you enough to stretch out like a cat after a particularly good nap.

“I wanna make pancakes,” you said. Your stomach grumbled at the thought, even louder this time.

Chase chuckled and pressed kisses to your neck and shoulders. “You sure you’re up for that?” he asked between kisses.

You nodded determinedly. “Yup. ‘Sides, you’ll be there to help me if I’m not.”

Chase smiled against your skin. “Yeah, suppose I will be.”

You frowned and turned around in his arms. He raised an eyebrow at the look you were giving him. “What?” he asked, confused.

“Baby, you smell horrible,” you whispered, nose wrinkling in disgust.

He laughed at that and, before you could stop him, he pulled you against his chest and began rubbing his face and arms over every part of you that he could reach.

You laughed and didn’t even try to push him off, but he did eventually stop, face a little flushed from laughter.

He was gorgeous.

“Pancakes?” he asked with a wicked smile.

You grinned back. “Pancakes.” You paused, thinking a moment. “And maybe a clothespin. For my nose.”

Chase laughed at that and scooped you up from the bed, only pausing at the door once you reminded him that you were both still mostly naked and there were other people in the house.

Chase threatened to walk out in the nude just to spite the other Sons, but quickly went digging for clothes when you threatened to do the same.

Aw. He was jealous. How cute. 

* * *

 

The other Sons trickled into the kitchen and dining room one by one, lured in by the smell of cooking bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

Pogue tried to help once but Chase smacked his hands with a spatula and he got the message, quickly scuttling out of the kitchen.

It was actually kind of funny watching them. They seemed very distrustful of Chase, but could barely even look at you. They were quick to do anything you asked of them and you were pretty sure if you asked them to jump they’d ask “how high?”

You supposed almost killing a person did that to someone.

“That’s a lot of pancakes,” Chase said, accusatory, from his spot next to you where he was cooking the bacon and eggs. You shrugged and sent him an innocent smile and he groaned. “You’re making breakfast for them, aren’t you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s the most important meal of the day,” you said evasively as you flipped a pancake, smiling at its fluffy, golden brown deliciousness.

“They almost killed you and want to kill me… so you’re feeding them pancakes,” Chase said resignedly, though with a hint of annoyance.

“They could be poisoned!” Reid piped up from the living room. You could hear the other three shushing him as subtly as they could.

Chase pointed a spatula at the dining room and raised his eyebrows in a way that clearly said _‘That’s a great idea. We should do that.’_

You swatted him playfully with your spatula, smile on your lips. “I would never poison breakfast food. It’s sacred.” Chase groaned and you bumped his arm with your shoulder. “Just trust me, alright?” you asked with what you hoped was a winning smile.

Chase eyed you warily but eventually his shoulders sagged in defeat (and a bit of annoyance) and he nodded. “Whatever you say, Sweet Thing.”

Fifteen minutes later you and Chase served yourselves a heaping plate of food and tall glasses of juice then let the other Sons grab their shares. You were thankful, suddenly, for your overly large dining room table that you usually never ate at.

The meal was eaten awkwardly in near silence with you and Chase on one side and other four across from you. Chase glared at them the entire time, only pausing long enough to glance over at you as though to ensure you were still there. Eventually you took pity on him and hooked your ankle around his under the table. With the constant physical contact from you he relaxed just a tiny bit and you fought the urge to smile. He was so damn adorable.

The other Sons were almost done eating when you spoke, shattering the deathly quiet that, up until that point, was only interrupted by the scrape of silverware and quiet chewing.

“So, as soon as I seal Chase’s powers you’re leaving and never coming back, right?” you asked brightly.

Tyler froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, not realizing there was sticky syrup dripping onto the napkin on his lap. Reid nearly choked on his food. Pogue’s knife made a particularly horrible noise as it scraped against his plate. Caleb froze like a deer in the headlights.

“I know we probably wouldn’t be able to stop you right now if you attacked us… not that we wouldn’t be able to get some damage in first,” you winked playfully as though you weren’t talking about a deadly fight between warlocks. “But I feel particularly uncomfortable having you all here once we seal his powers. I’m too weak to put up any sort of real fight by myself and I think I’ve had enough of dying for quite some time.”

The chunk of pancake on Tyler’s fork fell onto his plate, forgotten, as he stared at the other Sons in alarm. Pogue pounded on Reid’s back in an attempt to clear his sausage-clogged airways, and Caleb looked like a fish out of water as he tried to form a coherent sentence.

You saw Chase shaking with silent laughter out of the corner of your eye and gave him a gentle nudge with your foot to get him to behave.

“We, uh-” Caleb began.

“Think that that’s agreeable and will be gone the moment the incantation is over? That’s lovely news!” you said cheerfully, staring at them over your interwoven fingers. “Because as it stands, I think he’s quite eager to kill you and, while I’m quite proud of him for not doing so or even attempting to do so, I’m almost willing to let him,” you said, eyes flashing dangerously. Even without having to look you knew Chase’s eyes had turned solid black again. “You did nearly kill me, after all.” Not once did your smile falter.

The other Sons glanced at each other, having a wordless conversation before Caleb turned back to you and nodded. “Yeah, that’s- That sounds good,” he agreed, smile tight.

“Good,” you and Chase said in unison, his sneer at odds with your beaming (if not tight) smile. 

* * *

 

You and chase sat on the floor of the living room together, relaxed now that the other Sons had left over an hour ago and hadn’t returned. If you were being honest, you were exhausted, content to sit between Chase’s thighs and watch as he tried to light a candle.

Unlike the power of the Sons of Ipswich, your powers weren’t linked directly to your life force. Unbeknownst to the other Sons, you’d tethered yourself to Chase during the ritual, sealing his powers while also giving him a piece of yours. He’d never have the same level of powers as he did when he was full double ascended (not even close), but he seemed content anyway.

“It’s not working,” he mumbled in frustration. You could feel the way he was working the energy but stayed silent unless he asked for help. He was still quite independent and didn’t always appreciate unwarranted advice.

“Would you like to feel me do it?” you asked a little sleepily.

Chase wrapped his arms around you and you could feel him shake his head right before he placed a kiss to the crown of your head. “No, you’re tired.”

You hummed your agreement and rested your head back against his chin. “‘S’pose we got tomorrow,” you said with a smile.

He grinned back at you, looking younger than you’d ever seen him. “And the next day,” he said, leaning down to peck you on the lips.

Your smile grew. “And the next day.” You leaned up and kissed him fleetingly on the lips.

He laughed gently at that and scooped you up his arms so he could give you a longer, slower kiss that had your heart fluttering in your chest.

You broke apart after a moment and your heart turned to goo at the warm look in his eyes. “I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered reverently, placing a lingering kiss to your temple.

If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be sitting in Chase Goodwin-Pope-Collins’ lap, completely in love, you would have hexed them to hell and back.

But here you were, staring into his stunning blue-grey eyes, and all you could think about was all the time you had with him now.

It was with a dazzling smile that you looked up at him and said, with zero hesitance, “I love you too, Chase.”


End file.
